An Outsider's Look at the Pines Twins
by iguessso12
Summary: The Pines twins have been steeped in mayhem, mysteries, and magic every summer since they were 12 years old. Coming back home to Piedmont, going to high school, acting normal? All those things make them stick out like a sore thumb. When you ask outsiders about the Pines twins, you get a mix of strange stories and casual observations.
1. Chapter 1

The Desk Nearby

Cody Prewitt really didn't know what to expect when he started high school. More girls; different girls; cuter girls, maybe? Hopefully, there'd be a better selection than his small, Catholic K-through-8 primary school outside of Piedmont, California. So, he hadn't given much thought to the fact that people in general – not just the girls – were not the same as those at his previous school.

But this kid that sat next to him in half his classes – because it was the first seating chart of the academic year, and of course the teachers were too lazy to do something more original than alphabetical order – he took the cake when it came to weird.

This kid would spend his class periods gazing out the window, mumbling to himself, and occasionally scribbling notes in a spiral notebook. But the utter nonsense he recorded definitely didn't have anything to do with the class, Cody would know. Most of the time, Cody tried not to let the kid's weird antics distract him so he could take his own notes, and theirs never matched.

For the first two weeks, Cody wondered if the kid had ADHD or some other condition. He always looked distracted; his eyes never stayed stuck on one thing for more than a minute unless it was a book that had no connection to the curriculum. Or it could possibly be that he had issues with insomnia. Most of the time he came to school with heavy bags under his eyes; Cody could count the high school guys that drank coffee on one hand, and this dude was one. Asperger's was also a possibility. Cody wasn't _seriously_ observing the kid or anything, but he hadn't seen him talking to anyone besides a pretty brown-haired girl with way too much energy.

It was possible Cody was hyping this up just a smidge too much. But his life did not boast of many excitements, so he had to make do with what he had.

The bell rang, jarring Cody from his musings. The kid in the desk nearby packed the superfluous books that he'd brought into his satchel and slung it over his should, careful not to disturb his curly brown hair. Maybe he had a phobia about things touching his head? Another possibility for the reason behind his constantly odd behavior; but it wasn't Cody's strongest theory yet.

The odd boy struck out, following the back of the pack of students but not getting close enough to get roughed up by the mass of bodies that was making its way to the cafeteria. Cody threw his stuff into his backpack and turned just in time to see the kid hang a left out the classroom door instead of right, towards the gym for lunch period. Strange, as per usual.

The accumulation of mystery upon mystery for the past two weeks prompted him to action. Slinging his book bag over his shoulder, Cody speed walked out of the classroom and turned left. The kid was half a hall in front of him, but Cody didn't feel like taking chances when he was already so far out of line. He ducked into the boys' bathroom and peeked through a crack in the door to see which way the boy would turn next. His parents had taught him better than this; spying on people was downright rude. His mom could probably think of some sort of appropriate punishment for him if she ever found out.

A right.

Cody ran – as quietly as he could – with his heart hammering inside of his ribcage. Oh gosh, it was so loud. The kid would probably hear him from half a mile away.

But that was unrealistic.

When Cody reached the corner where the kid had turned right, the swinging motion of the library doors caught his eye. So maybe he wasn't up to anything shady. But who would want to miss lunch for a book? Well, considering Cody was missing lunch due to this kid that was missing lunch for a book, he was technically missing lunch for a book via the transitive property. Cody let out a raspy sigh. This was dumb. But he had already come so far, may as well see what this kid was after in the library.

Cody eased his way into the library: a big quiet room with dusty shelves from floor to ceiling, providing perfect cover. The front desk was empty, with a sign indicating that the librarian had left for lunch break. So why would the kid choose now to come? He couldn't even check anything out! Moving slowly, eyes roving anxiously, Cody dove deeper into the mass of books. It was so much bigger than the library at his old school; it was kind of hard to believe that his class size had quadrupled despite the fact that this school was only ten miles from previous one.

The dry sound of flipping pages drew his attention once again. The kid was staring intently at a thick volume, just standing in the middle of an aisle. He made no move to sit and read or to go to the desk and try to check it out. Cody moved so that the kid wouldn't be able to see him in his peripheral vision and settled down to watch. If something interesting happened, Cody wasn't going to miss it.

A few minutes passed. The boy continued to read, stone still apart from his brown eyes flitting back and forth along the text and the occasional turn of a page. Cody's stomach growled. The muted sound of the library door opening filtered back to him through the mesh of books.

That girl: the cheerful, brown haired, weird one. Yeah, she wore really colorful sweaters and seemed to have some obsession with being the loudest individual in whatever class she was in. Cody didn't have any subjects with both of those strange students, but he had the odd coincidence of being the one to sit next to them in the ones they shared.

What was she doing here? How did she know that they'd be here?

"Dipper," She called, "Are you hiding out in here again."

"I'm not hiding out, Mabel." The statue kid mumbled in reply as the girl approached him.

"That's not what it looks like to all the other students, dum-dum." The girl – Mabel – chirped, "When I told my new friends that I had a twin, they all asked where you were."

Oh, that made sense. Cody probably should have seen the resemblance sooner. But, hey, he was a guy: not the most detail oriented of human beings. This conversation was sure to be enlightening.

"Hmmm, that's nice. Mabel, does this symbol look familiar to you."

Ignoring the sudden change of topic and taking the proffered volume, the girl tilted it up and squinted at the page. In that position, Cody was able to catch a glimpse of the binging. The title read: _Cryptology in the Classics_.

What?

"I… guess. But Dipper, you're much better at these code things than me." She shot a look at her brother.

Distractedly, the kid flattened his hair on his forehead, "Yeah, usually. But my notes got messed up this morning when I fell asleep in my cereal and spilled milk everywhere."

"Now that's a reason to cry over spilled milk!" the girl gave a glittery, brace-face smile, consoling, "Not everything is as durable as your journal. That thing is laced with a buttload of magic."

"I didn't think it would be necessary to do the same thing with my notes," the boy wrung his hands, "And I'm still nervous about messing up an incantation to protect and spontaneously combusting them, or something equally as bazar."

The girl snapped the book shut and slapped the boy roughly on the back so that his breath wheezed out, "It was the symbol on the two o' clock of Bill's inter-dimensional circle. Does that help?"

"Yes." The kid rasped, hand on his chest, "Mabel, ugh, you were strong before, but karate seems to be doing you lots of favors."

The girl crossed her arms, giving off an air of pride, "I do one hundred _kihones_ a day outside of regular practice. Next summer, I'll be able to single-handedly beat down as many zombies as you can summon."

A grin crept its way onto the boy's face, "You wanna bet, Mabel? Magic grows stronger too, and the more I understand it, the more refined and efficient I can make the spells."

"We don't need a bet," the girl got right in the kid's face, "Grunkle Stan can hold a competition at the Mystery Shack. Winner gets seventy-five percent of the revenue and the rest goes to the shop. I'm gonna get my dream hamster ball by next June."

"You're on." The kid took the tome back and slid it into the place on the shelves, "Too bad summer's so far away though." He sighed, "Mom and dad don't like me practicing in the house."

"They don't mind me, though!" The girl cheered, mock-punching the air, only shades from the boy's face. He didn't even flinch.

"I don't think you're any less destructive than I am." His tone had taken a long-suffering quality.

"So, Dip," the girl chirped, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they started to walk, "Do you want to sit with me and my friends or are you gonna sit with some of your own?"

"Mabel, please don't forget who you're talking to here."

"That's right," her loud voice carried through the library, but nonetheless, it was fading, "'I'm talking to Mr. McGrumpy-pants, who's had two weeks of glorious high school life and hasn't managed to even make so much as an acquaintance."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I do have a stalker." The boy's steady voice was matter-of-fact.

"Hah! Now that was a funny joke, bro-bro! C'mon, let's go tell my buds about some mystery twins' adventures!"

The library doors swung shut, muting the final sounds of the boy's complaining, leaving Cody to his thoughts. The foremost of them being: What the heck was that?

Cryptology?

Magic?

Grunkle?

Out of context, it was a jumble of nonsense.

Though, as far as Cody knew, that Dipper kid didn't have a stalker.

A few days later, when their class received their first test beck, Cody glanced at Dipper's to compare scores. The lanky, brown-haired boy caught him staring and gave him a conspiratorial wink. At that instant, Cody realized that Dipper was a lot smarter than Cody had originally given him credit for. And just to play it safe, he stayed out of the kid's business in case hexes were a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Axe Gets Axed

Kevin Ringenberg did _not _like threats to his lifestyle. As a kid, he had spent too much time in sub-par circumstances. Not anymore; not ever again; not when he was old enough to take control of his own life. Upon entering high school he had grabbed the wheel with a steel grip and swore he wouldn't let go, even if it killed him.

So when a _freshman_ of all things, started to interfere with his perfect setup, he came to the conclusion that he needed to stomp it out ASAP. Even if it was small now, that didn't mean it couldn't grow into something cataclysmically worse – something beyond his control. He had seen it happen before.

And that was why he was sacrificing his focus during football practice to keep an eye out for a certain brown haired freshman. He had seen her hanging around after school hours for the past week, working on something in the wood-shop. Today shouldn't be an exception. And if everything went as he planned – which it usually did – then practice should be ending about the same time she concluded her work.

The coach called an end to the workout and Kevin gave his buddies a thumbs up. They nodded back. Kevin hadn't told them all of the details, but they were willing to go along with it. After all, they had been victims of the humiliation the week before as well. Kevin hadn't needed to do much convincing.

Kevin took a deep breath as he entered the boys' locker room, rubbing his nose to excuse a discrete sniff. He had no idea what the prank last week had been about. Why would a stupid freshman go out of her way to piss off an entire team of buff, intimidating teenagers? Their reputation alone should keep people off their backs. It was one of the perks about the football team that Kevin was very happy to take advantage of.

As previously stated, he didn't like people messing with him.

Kyle and Aaron followed after him when he left, sweat still stained their undershirts as they hadn't taken time to change and risk missing their chance. They shouldered their duffel bags and set off to find Mabel Pines.

Kevin checked his watch. It was 5:10. Any minute now and she should be heading out to the dumpster to dispose of the sawdust and wood shavings that had accrued from her project. And… there she was.

They made sure to catch her on the side away from the football field, so that the dumpster blocked the view that the coaches or players may have had as they put away the equipment.

It was cold in the shadow of the dumpster. The freshman was still oblivious to the threesome as she made a racket opening the lid and throwing the garbage bag in. She was happily humming a tune, but it came to an immediate stop when she turned to find the three Juniors blocking her path. Kevin smiled; he liked that reaction.

"Hey boys!" Mabel Pines said cheerfully, a bright, brace-filled smile splitting her face. Geez, she looked like a geek. "What can I do for you?"

"Is that the kind of attitude you take with everyone you piss off?" Kevin asked, feeling the cliché need to crack his knuckles.

"What do you mean?" She cocked her head in curiosity.

"I mean, I'm here to pay you back for the shit you pulled last week." Kevin glared.

"Oh _that_!" the freshman laughed, "I was just doing you a teeny favor. There's no need to thank me."

"You honestly think I was going to thank you for breaking into every guy on the football team's locker to cover their practice jersey with stickers?! Are you stupid?"

She put her hands on her hips, sticking her nose in the air with superiority, "Scratch-n-sniff stickers to be exact. And it was completely necessary. People were starting to smell essence of football players all the way in the cafeteria. Lunches were spoiling!"

Kevin sputtered, starting to interject. But he was cut off as Mabel raised her voice and continued.

"See guys have this thing called puberty, during which their bodies start to smell _a lot _worse than normal. I would know, my brother is no hygiene freak. However, the phenomenon is easily solved with lots of showers and soap. Yet for some reason guys think that they can _cover _their atomic BO with even _more atomic_ waste, commonly known as Axe. It just makes the whole problem worse. My point last week was: it has to stop. Just wash you stupid jerseys."

Rage licked Kevin's insides. Here stood this freshman, acting like a know-it-all, and she was _proud _of it. No, _this _is what needed to stop.

He advanced on the girl, she was so much shorter than him, this was going to be so easy. Scare her. Rough her up a bit. No bruises on visible bits; of course, that wouldn't be a problem seeing as she always wore those horrific sweaters.

"You don't seem to understand your place, _freshman_." Kevin growled as he stalked forwards, his buddies closing in as well, "We are the school's most valuable students. We do what we want. And no one tells us otherwise."

The bright, open cheeriness had fallen off the girl's face. But it wasn't replaced by fear. There was a stony determination in her eyes instead. Retrospectively, Kevin realized he should have noticed that something was off; but in the moment, he was too angry to read his opposition.

"Is that what you honestly think?" her voice had grown quiet, but deadly, "That no one else matters and you can walk all over them as you please…"

Mabel Pines took the last step, closing the distance between them, and put her face in Kevin Ringenberg's – the football star and most popular male in the entire high school – face, "I can't stand people that think like that."

Belatedly, the alarm bells started to ring in Kevin's head.

"It seems," Mabel continued, "That it's more than just your jersey that stinks. Your attitude needs fixing along with your BO problem."

Kevin didn't even think before throwing the punch. He just wanted something to _shut her up_.

But, with barely an ounce of effort, Mabel quickly sidestepped and redirected the path of his punch so that his fist collided painfully with the metal dumpster. As he howled in pain and shook out his throbbing hand, the freshman strode past him slapping a sizable, department store 'SALE' sticker on his shoulder.

She breezed past his dumbstruck buddies as well before turning on her heel and yelling, "Bullying is cheap. You can find it anywhere. But kindness is pure gold. Kinda like that rule you learn about in kindergarten!"

She slapped a sticker on her own sweater: a golden trophy that read "u da best."

"And that's why I'm bothering to tell you this instead of beating you to a pulp."

"Mabel?" Kevin heard a new voice over the mayhem of his thoughts, "I thought I heard some commotion. Are you alright?"

Freshman Dipper Pines rounded the corner of the woodshop. The only reason Kevin knew his name was that the kid was so inherently nerdy the boys on the football team constantly retold their stories about teasing him. Kevin had thought he was a pushover. But that was before the kid found Kevin trying to beat up Mabel Pines.

Brown eyes narrowed as they took in the scene. In seconds, they found Kevin's, and the speed with which the perceptive freshman assessed the situation sent chills down his spine.

"Oh hey, bro-bro. How was the library?" Mable's happy, always slightly too noisy voice was back.

"Enlightening." Dipper responded mechanically. His stare never wavered, "Are you ready to go home now?"

"Yep!" the girl crowed, "I'm gonna make supper for everybody tonight. I hope you want an omelet shaped like your face!"

The boy finally broke off his glare to give his sister a smile, "I love breakfast for dinner."

Without acknowledging their upperclassman, the duo set off towards their house. Kevin could hear Mabel's portion of an animated conversation even as they reached the other side of the football field. But the three players were left in shock at the turn of events. Kevin had come for revenge, only to get blind-sided by a couple of freshman.

It didn't make sense. Mabel was a weird, over-eager girl with outcasts for friends and speculated to have brain damage. Dipper was a socially inept loser with no physical capabilities whatsoever and lived with his head in a book.

But for a few moments, Kevin got the impression that both could be scary as hell if they chose to be.

And in those few moments, Kevin had noticed something:

That kid was not like his sister.

Dipper Pines was the kind of person to save the lessons for last.


	3. Chapter 3

Dressing Up

Anna Schultz would forever be a child in a corner of her heart. Why else would she choose to work with high school students for the rest of her life? She loved to see the lights go on in their eyes, when they finally understood something she'd been drilling them with for weeks. She loved the energy and excitement and downright optimism that young people had. Kids were pure potential.

She loved it enough to spend eight hours a day with a new set of hooligans every year.

Of course, she was still rather young. She could definitely see herself becoming jaded like the school's senior educators in a few decades. But for now, she held her enthusiasm close; which is also why she decided to participate in dress-up day for this year's homecoming week.

Yes, she held on to her childhood. She clearly remembered reading all those young adult fiction books with exciting mysteries and conspiracies. It felt like it was yesterday. Yet time had passed, evident in that those genres had been eclipsed by romantic vampires and post-apocalyptic dystopians. So, on that note, her costume was more discreet, seeing as her students would be completely oblivious to the character she was pretending to be.

The bell rang out in the hall, signaling the end of her planning period. The assorted noises of students filling the halls droned in her ears, but her heart had a wild, excited cadence to it. Anna took a calming sip from her thermos, not that the coffee was going to inhibit her giddiness in the long run.

Student started filing in and taking their seats, pulling their hefty literature books from their bags. Cody Prewitt gave her an odd look as he passed her desk; he was an observant boy, but not the brightest in the class as he often overthought everything he did. The boy readjusted his red "M" cap to cover for his blatant stare, but Anna didn't mind. At least someone had noticed.

"Nice overalls, Cody." She said with a grin.

"Thanks." The boy mumbled, making his way to the back of the class.

"Miss Schultz!" The high pitched voice of one of Anna's favorite students screeched as its source skidded into the classroom.

"Mabel!" the teacher turned to see the girl, slightly disheveled from her sprint, "What are you doing here? You don't have Lit until fourth hour!"

"I know," she panted, out of breath. She adjusted her fluffy, feathered, red sweater and pulled a yellow beak off her face so that it hung around her neck. "It's just, you said you were going to dress up, and I wanted to see it, so I came as soon as I could, but we were almost late this morning, so I couldn't come before homeroom, and…"

Mabel's voice trailed off as she was finally able to take in the teacher's appearance.

"Do you like it?" Anna asked, assuming the girl's speechlessness was one of awe.

"Um, Miss Schultz."

"Yes?"

"Dipper has this class next, right?"

"Yes, he does."

Mabel stepped closer to the teacher, an uncharacteristically serious light in her eyes, "I think you should go…"

A movement in the corner of her eye caught Anna's attention, and she glanced around the girl to see none other than Dipper Pines walk into the classroom. With her impeccable twin intuition, Mabel turned to see her brother right as she uttered the last word: "… change."

"Why?" Anna asked, watching the boy in question and yet wondering why the girl in question was acting so strangely. Anna's voice seemed to snap the younger Pines twin out of his usually distracted state, and he shot a glance at this literature teacher.

Only to do a double take.

Dipper stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes grew wide. His face drained of all color. He looked like he was moments away from a dead faint. Anna noticed that his grip had grown so tight it was putting a dent one of those _hardbacks_ he always carried around.

She didn't know what to do.

Mabel did, though.

"Hey, bro-bro!" Mabel yelled as she stepped in front of her teacher, "Do you have any extra change on ya? I really want some juice from the vending machine; this Kazooie sweater is _hot_. I'm dying of dehydration!" she fanned herself dramatically in an attempt to draw her twin's gaze.

"Yeah, Mabel." Dipper answered, though his voice hollow and his stare never broke away from the spot on Anna's forehead. The makeup had seemed like such a good idea when she dreamed up the costume.

"Cool!" Mabel crowed, racing across the classroom to grab her brother's sleeve and drag him from the room. Anna could hear them clattering down the hall. There was only two more minutes before the next class period, but she had confidence that Mabel would bring her brother back in time.

Now the only one question that remained: was it enough time for her?

Anna grabbed her tote bag from under her desk. "Change." That had been what Mabel had been trying to tell her. And while Anna had been looking forward to this day for weeks, she didn't like the idea of her costume causing someone distress. She had never been the kind of person that enjoyed intentionally scaring people.

In the bathroom, Anna rubbed the extra eye off her forehead with a damp paper towel. The cleaning left a red splotch, but she could live with it. Next, she removed the glittering, gold pyramid pendant from around her neck and pulled the black cloak over her head, shoving them both in her bag. Underneath her costume she had worn her usual cardigan and khakis. Giving herself one last look-over in the mirror, Anna proceeded to speed-walk back to her classroom, arriving just as the bell rang.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she surveyed her room of students. Every desk was filled. No one liked to miss the fun-filled days of Homecoming week, after all. And there, in the back corner, sat Dipper Pines.

He was staring out the window, as per usual, a bottle of orange juice in front of him being judiciously ignored. But Anna thought she could detect a crease in his brow, his lips drooping in a frown. She recalled Mabel's serious face of her concern for her brother.

Should she be worried?

The boy was a conundrum. He wasn't an avid listener in class, yet he managed to have outstanding scores on both homework and tests. Once, when she had tasked the class with silent reading, she had walked down the aisles of desks to find him reading a book written purely in garbled letters and illegible symbols. Another time, when she was simply telling a story about her college years in class, she noticed him scribbling furious notes like his letter grade depended on it. He was quiet; but if called on, he generally had the most rational, thought-out answers about characters, themes, motifs, and plots.

"Alright class, we will be continuing to read _A Separate Peace _today. Please turn to page two hundred and forty-three. Isaiah, will you start us off?"

As expected, the class groaned collectively, slapping their textbooks open with unnecessary force.

"Don't we get to do something fun for homecoming week?" Amelia Gates whined.

"You will learn, that besides the pep rallies and the crazy outfits, homecoming week is very much like any other week of glorious education." Anna answered cheerfully.

"But you were wearing a costume!" Kyle Aldrich piped up, "We thought you'd be more into it than the other old geezers."

"Don't disrespect your elders." Anna chastised, noticing how Dipper's head perked up at his peer's usage of the past tense in reference to her clothes. She caught his gaze when he turned to face the front of the class and gave him a slow wink.

In return, she received a small, grateful smile.

The class proceeded without incident and the rest of the day continued without a hitch. Anna didn't mind the loss of her costume; it was fun enough simply to see the ones that the students had worked so hard on. She complimented the Pines Twins on their creativity with a unique Banjo-Kazooie duo idea, and Dipper admitted that it had all been Mabel's doing. No surprise there.

But she still didn't understand.

What was so terrifying about a fictional illuminati agent?


	4. Chapter 4

Overactive Imagination

Amelia Gates had been looking forward to high school. Ever since last February she had been yearning for freshman year. A new school, a new start, and she could leave behind the tumultuous days of middle school. Granted, they hadn't been tumultuous until February.

But she wasn't going to talk about that here.

Here, no one knew her. Yet. No one was privy to the gossip and lies that had followed her every step for the last few months of eighth grade. She could make new friends here. However, she would be very cautious about choosing those new friends.

Never again would she have people close to her betray her.

Amelia found her desk in the back of the world history classroom, plopping down before dutifully pulling out her pencil case to arrange her multicolored pens. She like the organization that gel-pens offered note-taking, and her mom only bought them if she promised to use them for school work.

A loud gasp interrupted her work, and her consequent jump disturbed the pens so that they slid off the desk.

"I'm so sorry." The girl squeaked, bending down to pick up the fallen utensils before Amelia could get a good look at her face, "I was just so excited to meet a fellow gel-pen user! Though mine are the glitter kind."

The girl's head came up, her hands full of pens and face full of smile. Amelia almost winced at the painfully stretched, brace-face grin, but the girl's honest enthusiasm won out. A tug at the corner of her mouth informed her that she was smiling in return, "Hi." She said with as much confidence she could muster.

"Hi back." The girl answered breathlessly, "I'm Mabel."

"I'm Amelia."

"Amelia, I am so glad I found you." Mabel voice was brimming with unrestrained enthusiasm, "Prospects have been very bleak this past. I was starting to think I would never again meet an intelligent life form. Color is a necessity of life!"

Amelia thought Mabel was being just a bit dramatic, but instead she nodded along seriously, "School is intolerable without gel-pens."

Mabel squealed with delight as she carefully laid Amelia's collection back down on her desk, "It's such a bummer we don't sit closer, though," she said with more restraint as the classroom began to fill in earnest, "I'm all the way at the front where I get spit showered every time Mr. Fay gets picky about the correct pronunciation of Egyptian pharos."

Laughing, Amelia agreed, "That must suck."

"But hey," Mabel started to inch away as the bell was seconds from ringing, "It would just be better to sit together at lunch so we can talk. You should join me and some other friends."

"Oh, okay." Amelia felt her cheeks warm at the unabashed invitation. Needless to say, up until lunch, anticipation was brewing in her stomach. It made her wonder if she was even going to be able to eat anything.

But the bell rang, and Amelia grabbed her sack lunch from her locker, and she followed the crowds of people to the cafeteria. She was worried she wasn't going to be able to find Mabel among the throngs of students, but only a few seconds after she had walked through the doors there was an energetic brunette standing on her chair and waving both hands over her head like she was signaling for an airplane to land.

Though if that made Amelia the airplane, then she'd been offended.

Dismissing her idle thoughts, she waved back, letting the other girl know that Amelia had seen her. The stares that Mabel had accumulated were quickly being reabsorbed by their lunches; very few things distracted a hungry teenager from food.

"Here," Mabel pulled out a chair for her, glowing, "I saved you a seat like I said!"

"Thanks." Amelia sat down and opened her lunch as two more girls arrived. The first was a short, black girl with dyed red hair of tight coils held back by a bandana; her dark eyes glimmered as they studied Amelia. The other was a pale girl with long, ash-blonde that appeared much older than a freshman as her arms folded across her chest looked like they could bench more than any boy in the school.

"Amelia, this is Tia and Katie," Mabel introduced both girls in turn. Tia gave Amelia an impish smile and Katie just shrugged her wide shoulders.

"Hey." Amelia squeaked.

"Sometimes my brother joins us too." Mabel said offhandedly as the quartet started to dig in to their food.

Between bites of her sandwich, Amelia asked, "You have a brother? What year is he?"

"Same age." Tia answered for Mabel, taking a ferocious bite of her apple and chewing loudly as she continued, "They're twins. Mabes never shuts up about it."

"You're just jealous!" Mabel stuck out her tongue.

"Speaking of Dipper," Amelia quirked her eyebrow at the strange name as Katie spoke, her voice low and slow, "I'd like to hear more Mystery Twins stories."

"Mystery Twins?" Amelia queried, "What's that?"

Mabel's eyes began to glow with unbridled fervor, and Amelia – while only knowing Mabel for less than a day – could tell that she had just gone down a road of no return.

"During the summer, my brother and I go to stay with our great uncle in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Grunkle Stan isn't much of a caregiver, so we get into a lot of… shenanigans, if you will."

Amelia could have sworn there was just the slightest hint of evil in that smirk Mabel was wearing, but she was already in too deep, so she said, "Define shenanigans."

"Ooooo, here she goes." Tia hid behind her bag of Sun Chips, preparing for the oncoming storm. Katie looked more interested than she had since lunch period started, but it was still only a mild inclination of her head and a less-dazed look than before.

"Well," Mabel began, leaning into the center of their gaggle and lowing her voice dramatically. The other girls followed suit. "There was this one time that our Grunkle Stan tried to take us fishing, but Dip and I weren't liking that idea, since the last time our Grunkle wanted to do something with us, we ended up in jail. But anyway, we were about to make an excuse and escape when the local coot came running down the docks ranting about a monster in the lake. Now Dipper is a huge mystery geek, so he _had_ to see it, and there was no way he was leaving me behind…"

Mabel went on to spin a tale about seventeen disposable cameras, getting chased by Oregon's version of Loch Ness, and a crazy old man that built mechanical monsters.

But Amelia found that she couldn't quite mask her skepticism. Sure, the account was semi-believable; probably laced with a healthy dose of exaggeration and embellishment. It was an interesting adventure, but surely it could have been told without breeching the fantasy genre?

And yet, when the story was over, Tia and Katie went back to finishing lunch, accepting it all as if the facts had come straight from an encyclopedia.

The subsequent lunch breaks that Amelia spent with Mabel and her friends followed the same pattern. But Mabel's narratives grew more far-fetched by the day: video games coming to life, crystals that shrank/grew stuff, and magic spells that summon zombies only to be destroyed by a three-part harmony. The other girls didn't seem to question it, but there was a painful knot growing in Amelia's stomach.

She hated being lied to. If someone couldn't tell the truth in the little things, well… how was she supposed to trust someone like that to be her friend?

On one of those rare days that Mabel's mousy, bookworm brother sat with them, while Mabel was telling another Mystery Twins anecdote, she leaned over and whispered to him, "Doesn't it bother anyone that she is always stretching the truth like that?"

Dipper looked up from his book, brown eyes wide and startled. He stared at her for a few seconds longer than what was comfortable before he answered, "Mabel doesn't lie." his tone was flat, "She hates it when people lie." And then he promptly went back to reading his book, his pen sneaking its way up to his mouth for a good, thoughtful chew.

"Geez, Dipper! Actually eat something edible!" Mabel replaced his pen with a cracker slathered in cheese – Dipper didn't seem to notice the switch – and then went back to her story.

"So where was I… Oh yeah! Dipper convinced the gnomes to help us by telling them that Gideon was a girl!" Tia and Katie laughed.

After a minute of consideration, Amelia picked up her lunch and stood up from the table, "I need to go to the bathroom before class." She said by way of explanation.

Amelia didn't sit with them the next day.

When Mabel found her after lunch, Amelia decided that being frank was the best course of action.

"Your stories bug me, Mabel."

"What about them?" the other girl's brow was furrowed in concern and confusion. Did she really not understand?

"Maybe there's some foundation of truth in them, but you fabricate everything else. You lie, Mabel." Amelia noticed Mabel blink rapidly as her eyes started to glisten at the accusation, "I just can't be around someone who thinks that's alright."

"But…"

Amelia cut her off, "Just tell me you made it up. Be honest. Otherwise, I know it won't work out between us, so I rather not even try."

Mabel's voice was smaller than Amelia had ever heard before, "Amelia, those things really happened. Tia and Katie believe it. Why can't you?"

"I don't want to be lied to again." Amelia's throat felt achy – constricted – as she repeated the mantra she'd held on to since February. "Please don't ask me to hang out with you."

With finality, Amelia turned and walked away.

She would find a friend.

Someday.

The next day, she was relieved to find that Mabel still smiled in her direction. A look of understanding – though tinged with sadness – graced her features. But Amelia also noticed that Dipper's uncharacteristically focused scrutiny was anything but forgiving.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry, this was a bit of a sad one. Amelia is not meant to be an antagonist in any way. She simply demonstrates the glaring difference in standards of "normalcy" for the Pines twins. I also would like to point out here that I allude to each individual's history and show how it affects their perceptions of the twins, but I'm sure you all have already realized that.<strong>

**It is canon that Dipper is a little vindictive, and I hope to delve into that in the next few chapters. I have ideas for said chapters, but anything beyond that is up in the air. If you have a suggestion – I can't make any promises that they will come to fruition, but – I would like to hear them!**

**Lastly, these chapters are in no particular order chronologically. I just write whatever springs into my mind :P**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Good Neighbor

William Cyrus wasn't the most outgoing of kids. Sure, most of the students in his year he'd known since kindergarten, but that didn't change the fact that he was painfully introverted. He just _really_ didn't like talking to people. He always screwed it up, stuttering and sounding awkward; people tended to escape his conversation as fast as they could.

His uncle, a speech pathologist, had recommended he enroll in speech therapy offered by the high school's special education department. And after William hadn't done it within the first month, his uncle had come to the school himself and spoken with most of William's teachers. Now, said teachers had the patronizing habit of paying him special attention.

Sighing, as his algebra teacher greeted him on his way into school, William's inner monologue booted up: _I don't have a speech problem, uncle. I just get really nervous around people. I appreciate your concern, but will you stay out of my life please!_

He made his way to his locker, keeping his head down. It didn't bother him that people didn't talk to him. They didn't even bother to learn his name. _But maybe it is a bit lonely_.

The bell signaled the beginning of the day's boring routine. William dragged his unnecessarily heavy textbook (_seriously, they never even put a dent in all this stuff!_) to his first class. Mr. Acord started speaking after the initial flurry of thirty students finding their seats petered out.

_It's too early for Biology,_ William thought with a yawn, _Doctors have attested that biologically, eight o clock is too early for the teenage mind to hold information. So why do they do this to us?_

His eye roamed the classroom and he noticed another kid in class nursing a paper mug of something that probably _not _hot chocolate.

_Now he's a genius._

William was so caught up in pondering a legitimate excuse for slipping out of class to pay the vending machine a visit that he almost missed the announcement: "Over the next few days we will be doing a group project on the subject of…"

The rest of what Mr. Acord was going to say turned into a low buzz as William's brain fixated on two words.

_Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group project. Group…_

They resounded in his ears, taunting him. But he didn't have long to worry about it. People were shuffling around, apparently moving to assigned seats. William was frozen in his own seat, hoping to the highest hope that he wouldn't look like an idiot when he didn't move.

"Hey."

William started, spinning in his seat to face a set of boys, one slightly in front of the other.

"You're William, right?" the first one asked. He was a taller kid with thick, black hair; light, brown eyes; and a pointed nose. His disarming grin brought William's stress levels down a notch.

"Yeah." William answered, peeking a glance at the second one. To his surprise, it was the kid with the coffee that he's noticed earlier. A better look made William think that he was kind of familiar: sort of short, scrawny, with unkempt brown hair, and dark bags under his eyes. William couldn't remember where he'd seen him before, but he dismissed the mystery in lieu of getting this awful project over and done with.

The two boys took a seat, and that was when William realized he hadn't caught the other boys' names when the groups had been assigned. He felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment, but he couldn't summon the courage to ask.

_I'll just call them Boy 1 and Boy 2 until I can figure it_, he decided.

Boy 1 read off the instructions without prompt. Not that he would receive such a thing from William, now tongue tied now that people were within five feet of him, or Boy 2, if his heavy lidded, vacant expression was indicative of anything. Apparently they were going to be given a species to dissect and then give a presentation in class on the highlights of its key qualities.

_Great_, he thought sarcastically, _this is going to be awesome_.

"Alright then," Boy 1 said clapping his hands and rubbing them together, "I suck at Bio, so this is gonna be fun." He offered William a crooked smile, "I'll go get the specimen. Dipper, why don't you get the tools."

_Boy 2 identified. That didn't take long. But man, I thought my nickname was bad._

"W-what about me?" William stuttered, surprised at being left out.

Boy 1 grinned. He always seemed to have a smile of some sort, "Will, you can read through the procedure. If it's okay with you, you can do the dissection part. I'm kind of a squeamish, and I promise you I will puke if I so much as touch a scalpel. Dipper probably shouldn't do it if he plans on finishing his coffee."

William shrugged to show, nonverbally, that that arrangement was fine with him. As the other two left, he scanned the paper Boy 1 had left behind. He was pleasantly surprised to find that 'Group 3' was written at the top of the sheet, along with the names of its members: William Cyrus, Isaac Guerrero, and Dipper Pines.

_Boy 1 identified. That wasn't so bad._

With a clatter of the dissection pan and a variety of utensils, the group started on their project. Unfortunately for William, that's also when the awkward rambling started. Distracted by his careful work of finding the tissues and systems they were looking for, William forgot to keep his strange thoughts to himself.

"I'm so glad this thing is dead, or else it'd probably be constantly screaming."

Isaac hummed beside him, "If that was the case, I'd be puking _without_ even touching a scalpel."

He probed around the formaldehyde ridden creature's mouth, commenting, "I have a weird collection of teeth, but I don't think I have one from a fetal pig."

"I imagine those would be hard to come by." Isaac said good-naturedly.

Another minute passed in silence before Mr. Acord, who'd been roaming around the class to offer advice, came over to check on Group 3.

"Any questions?" he asked Isaac.

"Nope!"

"Good. Keep up the good work, Bill. You're doing a fantastic job."

As Mr. Acord walked away William pulled a face. That was probably _the_ most annoying consequence of his uncle talking to his teachers: their use of his uncle's nickname for him.

Isaac blinked once before looking William's way, "You're nickname is Bill?"

"T-that's what my uncle calls me," William went back to his work, feeling the tips of his ears burn, "but I-I-I'd prefer Will if that's okay."

Hand on his chin in a contemplative manner, Isaac stated with a smile, "Or I could just call you _amigo_, ammirite?" he commented to Dipper, "He doesn't really look like a Bill, don't you think?"

Both boys turned their attention to Dipper, waiting for his response. But none was forthcoming. The boy simply stood there, stiff as a board. His eyes were unfocused as proverbial gears turned in his brain. William had to strain his ears to hear a string of mumbles: "…head that's always screaming… Cyrus, Cipher, same sound at the beginning… deer teeth…"

Suddenly Dipper's gaze snapped to the scalpel in William's hand. In less than a second, he had snatched the utensil away. Dark eyes glared at William with unnerving force. Startled by the boy's sudden change in demeanor William took a step back.

Isaac stepped between them, shooting Dipper a confused look, "What gives, man?"

"I think I should handle the knife from now on." It was the first time Dipper had really spoken to them, but his tone had an edge of authority too it, like he was used to leading.

"Kay, but you didn't have to be so rude about it." Isaac grumbled. When Dipper went to work on the specimen he shrugged in William's direction.

The silent cordiality lasted for about another minute before William had an epiphany that shattered what was left of Group 3's teamwork.

"Your locker is like, three down from mine!" he said, announcing his realization of why Dipper had seemed familiar loudly enough to draw his lab partners' attention, "After school you wear that blue and white trucker's hat with the pine tree on it."

"That _would _be what you notice!" Dipper growled, abruptly standing so that his chair nearly fell over backwards. Without further ado, he marched to the front of the class, had Mr. Acord fill out a pass, and disappeared into the hall.

"Um…Okay?" Isaac muttered, "Let's just finish up without him then. There isn't that much time left in the period."

William shrugged, afraid to say anything that might piss off his last lab partner. But even after the bell rang, Isaac walked with him, chatting idly while William remained silent. Their one-sided conversation came to a halt as the hallway became congested with a crowd of students all staring at the same thing.

"Who's locker is that?" William heard a girl whisper.

"What's going on?" Isaac asked.

"Dunno."

The duo pushed their way to the front. But William had a hard time believing what he was seeing.

A single locker had somehow been yanked from the wall and tossed down the centerline of the hallway. The green painted metal was mangled from the force of its removal and the linoleum was streaked from where it had slid along the tiles. But the biggest surprise was that the gap of discolored cinder blocks revealed that the row was missing number 227: William's locker.

Isaac read his blanched face, "That's yours, isn't it."

William nodded.

"That jerk," Isaac's eyes narrowed and he spun on his heel, "See you after school, _amigo_! I'm going to tell the principal."

_Tell him what?_ Isaac thought. _That a skinny, fourteen year old boy somehow tore my locker off the wall. Yeah, I'm sure he'll believe that. I don't even believe it, and I'm staring at it!_

But William couldn't deny that Dipper's attitude had seemed pretty suspicious: loathing tinged with just a hint of… fear.

_What did I ever do to him?_

Less than a half hour later, William found himself sitting in a chair outside of the principal's office. He waited to be summoned, trying not to eavesdrop on the sounds emanating from within the office. But it was hard to ignore. And his classmate's odd behavior had only made him more curious.

"Did you vandalize Bill's locker?" Principal Rocklin asked. Geez, even the principal was on the nickname train? He really needed to have words with his uncle.

Dipper's quiet voice muttered, "Don't trust people named Bill."

"So you're confessing?"

"It's over here!" A new voice, clear and bell-like came from the other end of the hall.

William looked up to see a girl, probably around his age, and an elderly man hasten their way towards him. Without knocking, the old man barreled his way into the office before William could get a good look at him. But the girl plopped into the seat next to him, kicking her legs back and forth as she waited. She smiled at him, brown eyes crinkling at their corners.

_She's really pretty_, William observed. And he might've kept staring were it not from shouts issuing from the office to distract him.

"You can't just barge in here!" Principal Rocklin objected, "This is a conduct meeting!"

"I'm an old man," the old man declared, "So I don't have a lot of time to stand around waiting. What's going on? What's the kid in trouble for."

"He's suspected in removing another student's locker from its place." Rocklin admitted grudgingly. "Who are you anyway?"

The old man barked out a laugh, "I'm the kid's Grunkle Stan. You're tell'n me that you think this wimpy kid pulled a locker off a wall? Look at his noodle arms! I might be old, but I know what physics is. You can't pull one over me."

William could practically see Principal Rocklin fuming in his mind's eye. He shot a sideways glance at the girl only to find her still smiling despite the heated conversation occurring just a wall away.

_Kinda creepy._

"I don't know how he did it, but he's the only one with a hall pass at the time of the incident."

"That's cute." Grunkle Stan sneered, "Thinking kids follow the rules all the time. You still have a whole school of suspects. Heck, maybe the kid did it to his own locker!"

"Bill wouldn't do that!" Principal Rocklin's voice was rising again.

"Ha! See! Never trust someone named Bill!"

Outside the office, William sank lower into his seat, hating his nickname more than ever. The girl patted his hand consolingly.

"Now I'm an old man," Grunkle Stan reiterated, "So I'd rather that the precious time I took to make this trip be spent with my niece and nephew instead of waiting for them to get out of after-school detention. We are going to go so you conduct a more thorough investigation. If you find solid evidence that the kid did it, then you can call his parents. I don't have the patience for this crap."

Grunkle Stan bustled Dipper out of the Principal's office, past William, and down the hall. The girl jumped up and tagged along behind them, a cheerful bounce in her step.

_I wish my uncle was that cool_, the thought leapt unbidden to William's mind. Hoping for some resolution, he listened to the trio's parting conversation.

It started with the old man whapping Dipper up the side of the head.

"Sorry." Dipper mumbled.

"Dip," Grunkle Stan sighed roughly, "Magic users attract enough trouble as is. At least have the decency to _not _get caught."

_Um, what? Magic? If it were real, that could explain it…_

"You're usually such a paranoid pants," the girl added, nudging Dipper, "Why'd you do something so careless."

William's classmate muttered something that couldn't be heard with the growing distance. But whatever it was, it caused the old man to ruffle Dipper's hair reassuringly and the girl to sling her arms around him in a hug. And they rounded the corner like that; the three of them; a family.

When William was assigned a new locker – one very far from his old one – he wondered, _maybe Dipper Pines is a genius and this was his plan all along._

* * *

><p><strong>Whelp, this one REALLY got away from me (about 1000 words longer than the other chapters). That, and I keep preying on Dipper's likely PTSD thanks to a certain triangle demon. Also, Stan Visits! I like to think that he grows really attached to the twins and becomes acting grandfather, boxing trainer, and magical mentor. Lastly, Will is a sweetheart and he finally has a friend!<strong>

**The opportunity for ideas is still open. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

Color Palette

Jazmine Carter was going to make her last Prom _count_. Period.

She had survived four years of high school; four years of unnecessary science and math; four years of _gym class_ for this. After prom, she would get to move on and leave all of this behind her. She had been accepted into the art school of her dreams, and of course, had already taken the spot. Now all that was left was to go out with a bang. And that was the plan.

But Jazmine couldn't trust anybody else with this responsibility. Of course she had to be the Prom coordinator. She had been on the high school council for the last two years in anticipation for this event. It had been a no-brainer for the other members to elect her for this position. She was an artistic genius after all.

The only thing Jazmine hadn't predicted was all the hubbub that came with the planning. True, she had had a general idea of what she wanted the setup to look like for years. But actually executing that vision was something completely different. There was the budget, the itinerary, and delegations to manage. Every little detail needed a complete explanation so that other people could help as well. A score of volunteers were working under her, but Jazmine wasn't sure they were capable of making her the night of her high school dreams a reality.

That was why it was such a relief to see Mabel Pines' name on the list of volunteers.

For the past school year, all of her creative arts teachers had been ranting about what a prodigy she was. Mr. Paris, the woodworking teacher, had been raving about her project last fall: a pine wood chest engraved with variety of intricate symbols. The art teacher, Mrs. Robinson, had displayed a number of her works – paintings, sculptures, photography, etc – in the exhibition case near the school's front doors. Mabel had participated in the school's drama production as well, and Ms. Kim, the director, said that Mabel's supporting role practically stole the spotlight with her ingenuity. Not to mention, Jazmine had witnessed her handmade clothes and jewelry all year when they passed in the halls.

The week before Prom, decorating began in earnest.

Jazmine was pleasantly surprised to find that the rumors she'd heard of Mabel's prankster personality were extremely accurate. It served as a source of amusement that helped to calm Jazmine's rattling nerves. The only problem was that the other volunteers didn't seem find her jokes funny and it was starting to cause some tension.

"Jaz," a Junior named Bethany, if she remembered correctly, came to her as she laid out some supplies for the younger helpers. Bethany's voice was edged with exasperation (this wasn't the first time she'd had to make such an announcement), "Mabel planted glitter bombs on the scaffolds in the gym and now there is glitter _all _over the floor."

She schooled her face into something serious, but on the inside, Jazmine's guffaws were uncontrollable. It would have been _great_ to see the looks on everyone's faces when those glitter bombs went off. Idly, she wondered what color glitter Mabel had used.

"Send that girl, what's her name," Jazmine snapped her fingers as she remembered, "Sarah to clean it up with the court sweeper. And then let Mabel know she'll be decorating the promenade with me. That should keep her away from everyone else for a few hours. You can oversee the hangings in the gym."

"Thanks, Jaz." Bethany sighed, her shoulders sagging with relief, "I didn't think I'd be able to manage her for much longer. Especially after the thing with the squirrels yesterday."

Jazmine shot her a conspiring smirk, "I've monopolized this entire event, so I'll take one for the team." Not that it was going to be much of a sacrifice; Mabel's quirky personality made some of the most time consuming jobs more interesting.

She finished up sorting through the supplies another ten minutes later, passed through the gym to issue more directions, and picked her way through the haphazard activity to the front hall where the promenade was set to happen.

This was the hardest part. She didn't want one institution standard-issue cinder block to be visible.

Mabel was already there, feverishly festooning the hallway with multicolored sheets, streamers, and ornaments. Her portion of the wall set a glaring contrast against the school's dingy atmosphere.

Speaking of contrast, Dipper Pines sat against the wall next to where Mabel was working. He had his head down and his nose in one of his ever present books, which wasn't a surprise. Ever since being introduced to them at the beginning of the Prom Prep Period, Jazmine had found it odd how much he seemed to be Mabel's polar opposite.

His often distracted absent mindedness was everything that Mabel's passionate enthusiasm wasn't. He had yet to lift a finger to help while Mabel needed to be kicked out after their time was up (though Jaz suspected that this was due to the fact that Dipper's name was in Mabel's handwriting on the sign-up sheet). He rarely spoke, possibly because he couldn't get a word in edgewise with Mabel rambling a million miles a minute. Simply, he seemed content to be dragged through the wake of Mabel's nonstop bustle.

Shaking her head, Jazmine focused instead on the task at hand.

"Do you wanna just decorate that side all the way to the gym and I'll do this one?" She asked Mabel.

The girl spun to give her a thousand watt smile, but the motion caused her long, chestnut hair to fly into her paint brush, staining the strands pastel pink. "Sounds good to me!" she chirped.

Jaz nodded, before pointing to her hair, "Um, you've got a little somethin' somethin'."

Mabel looked down and gasped when she noticed the paint, "Ooooo! I've always wanted pink hair! Dipper do you see this? Do I look like a mermaid yet?"

Without looking up, Dipper responded, "Mermaid's don't have pink hair, Mabel."

"Mermando's cousin does," she shot back without missing a beat.

"Then she probably dyed it."

Rolling her eyes at their nonsense conversation, Jazmine got to work. And while her focus was definitely on decorating, she couldn't help but hear the twins' low key conversation.

"Well, what does have pink hair, then?"

"Probably faeries, if the rest of their body is that color. They're kinda monochromatic."

"But I'd need more than pink hair to be a faery," Mabel sounded seriously contemplative, "I'd need wings too. Is there any magical thingamajig that could give me wings?"

"Not to my knowledge," Dipper sighed, turning a page in his book, "Why do you ask."

When Mabel didn't respond, Jaz peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Mabel deep in thought. Dipper too, glanced up from his book, saw her expression, and then went pale.

"Mabel. You are not thinking about our Summerween costumes already. Veto! I am not going to be a faery. Think of something else!" angrily, he shoved his face back into his book.

Jaz turned back to her project before either of them noticed her confused staring. Summerween? She had thought they were talking about some kind of fantasy video game.

"Fine." Mabel responded sullenly, not that it lasted for long, "What about mermaids?" She said wickedly.

"No."

"Then I'll be a mermaid and you can be a deertaur."

"What!? No!"

"You're boring."

"Am not."

"Fine." Mabel conceded, "You're not boring."

A beat of silence before Dipper mumbled with some trepidation, "Mabel, what do you want?"

"To not have to cart all the blue colored supplies up here." Mabel answered loftily, "You're technically supposed to be helping anyway."

Another span of silence began, stretching on so long that a buzz began to build up in her ears. Jaz thought that maybe she needed something to eat because her head was squeezing and her vision was tinted weird colors.

"I can get them for you." Jazmine turned to offer. It seemed Dipper had stonewalled his sister's request, and she could grab a snack out of her backpack on the way through the gym. But just as she said that, her dizzy spell ended and she was left with two Pines twins giving her matching, quizzical stares.

"It's fine." Mabel said, "Dip got it for me."

Jaz noticed that Dipper was still sitting on the floor, back against the wall, book in his hands. He didn't look like he had moved an inch. But sure enough, all of Mabel's art supplies were the school prom's thematic, pastel blue. And Dipper, for all the world, looked as innocent as could be.

A splash of pink in Mabel's hair reminded Jaz of the conundrum. And all she managed to squeak out, pointing to each twin in turn, was, "But… You had… and I coulda sworn you didn't…"

"Dip." Mabel interrupted, "Don't you think Jazmine looks kinda like Wendy?"

Dipper peered in her direction for a few seconds before returning to his book, but Jaz could see a hint of red on his cheeks, "If by redheaded and freckled, then yeah."

Mabel went back to her work as well, adding, "I agree. They're both really pretty, too."

After a few more moments of watching them, Jazmine hesitantly resumed her task. The Pines twins acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But that was the weirdest thing Jaz had ever witnessed. And with their continual casual conversation, she realized, she would never get a straight answer if she tried.

Regardless, Jazmine was delighted to have the twins, and everybody else on the Prom Prep Committee, as servers at the event that Saturday night. The underclassman of the committee were permitted to experience their hard work from the sidelines as long as they wore uniform, black formal wear. Of course, Mabel wouldn't have missed out on it for the world; and of course, she had dragged Dipper with her.

Now Jaz would never voice this to her date, but Dipper did look spiffy in that suit (in a cute kind of way) and Mabel's handmade dress was stunning as well (prettier even than some of the attendees). Taking a momentary break from dancing, Jazmine watched them for a while. She noted how comfortable they were in each other's presence, like siblings should be. When Mabel leaned over so that she could be heard over the loud music, Dipper listened and laughed.

And Jazmine realized, it was the first time she had seen Dipper smile.

So they _weren't _polar opposites as she'd initially thought. There were complements: each doing their best to make the other stand out as something extraordinary.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: I've never been to prom, so I hope none of the details are sloppy.<strong>

**I have a personal headcanon that the twins don't mask their conversations about the supernatural, but that got me thinking "how do they get away with that?" And when I was writing the dialogue earlier I found my answer: they literally sound like they are just talking about a fantasy genre MMO. It kinda made me laugh because my brother and I do this a lot, where we talk about fandom stuff really fast and our parents don't have a clue what we're saying :D**

**I made a Monster Falls AU reference cause I love the idea and the art is adorable.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

Dealing in Revenge

Chad Walker knew the school, inside and out. He ruled it.

He knew which teachers to sweet talk and which to avoid. Don't get on football star – Kevin Ringenberg's – bad side, he's heavy handed. He knew how to jiggle the lockers just right so that you didn't need the combination. That really pale freshman – Katie something – could 'accidentally' break your arm if she wanted to. He knew the best ways to sneak something you shouldn't have into school. Don't mess with Wimpy Will Cyrus or you'll get Captain Latin America breathing down your neck. He knew where the dealers dawdled and where the poker games were held. Queen Bitch – Shelby Dean – started the worst gossip scandals in the history of the school, though the biggest scandal was probably her relationship history.

Chad didn't cause trouble, he instigated it.

Need anything? Chad has a business to run.

Athletes failing a course, Chad can get you some nerd's homework solutions: ten singles if you're a loyal customer. Want flyers secretly distributed without the teachers knowing where they came from, Chad has a few flunkies for that: twenty-five bucks for the job. Gossip, Chad's got you covered: a cheap steal for flat rate of five dollars.

No one ever nominated Chad Walker to run the show, he just took the reins. It was his. And that feeling went straight to his head. It's what some might call a power trip. It meant he got to throw his weight around.

And very little made him feel better than insulting Mabel Pines.

The girl was like a walking neon sign. One so big and bright and downright _obnoxious_ that it hurt to look at. She was loud too. Earsplitting shrieks of excitement at the worst possible moments that made you jump and get embarrassed. Cheerful, helpful, thoughtful, sweet, kind, complimentary; she went against everything Chad stood for. And to top it off, she _never_ asked for anything in return.

"Get that sweater out of a dumpster? There's crap stuck to it."

"Well, that's a sticker. And that's a pom-pom, and this one." she explained her clothing in detail, pointing to each decoration in turn.

But as much as tearing her down made him feel better…

"Better get to class, brace face, or they'll have to drag you there with a magnet."

"Awww, how sweet of you for being concerned with my punctuality." She smiled big and wide, batting her eyelashes.

It ticked him off…

"Stop singing before you give the whole school hearing damage."

"Songs are like hugs for the ears!" she pumped her arms, sliding across the cafeteria table like a rock star.

That his words…

"Kissing up to the teachers again? Maybe you want to lick their shoes while you're at it."

"I don't think that's the most effective method, but I do have some shoe shine in my locker." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, walking away as if she were considering the possibility.

_Never_ seemed to get through to her!

One day, Chad would get that unremitting, Cheshire smile to fall of her face. Maybe her eyes would water as she tried to hold back tears. It's possible that she would run away to hide her embarrassment.

So he kept trying, day after day, coming up with something nastier to say every time.

Now, it hadn't escaped his notice that Mabel Pines had a brother. What kind of information broker would he be if he didn't know that? Chad just hadn't thought that the brother was significant. At least, not until Dipper Pines approached him.

It was in the boy's bathroom, tucked into an isolated corner of the second floor of the school: where he had established his business headquarters. Dipper Pines casually walked in just as he closed a deal with one of his regular clients. The client's gaze snapped between Chad and Dipper, sensing the atmosphere, before he slunk out the door. Anyone could tell, this wasn't a regular meeting.

Silence reigned as Chad studied the boy more closely. Dipper's stance was wide, his hands clenched. But Chad had no doubt he could take him if it came to a fight. His build was slight at best, like he was much more suited for desks and books. Try as he might, Chad didn't think that the boy's glare was the least bit intimidating.

"So, how may I help you?" Chad asked with his door-to-door salesman schmooze in full effect.

"Stop picking on my sister." Dipper answered lowly.

"What would you give me in return?"

"Mercy."

Chad laughed. That had to be the best joke he had heard in ages. "No deal, kid. You come with something better and I _might _consider your request." A shark-like grin stole across his face, "But I might not be willing to give up my favorite target."

The skin on Dipper's knuckles went white as his fists grew tighter. And for some odd reason, the temperature in the bathroom seemed to drop. The pipes under the sink clanged. The doors on the bathroom stalls quavered back and forth of their own accord. But as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper said in an unnervingly normal voice, "Fine, have it your way." And he walked out of the bathroom without another word.

Chad wasn't scared. But that didn't change the fact that there was someone in _his_ school that was rebelling against him. And just like he did everything in his power to stop the destructive cheerfulness of Mabel Pines, he needed to bring down the pig-headed insurrection of Dipper Pines.

"I've heard he's good at math." Rodney, one of his flunkies informed him.

"Let's find out just how good."

Appropriating a nerd's math homework was one of the most basic moves of an information broker: corner the target in the bathroom, let Rodney get the satisfaction of administering a swirly while he snapped a pic of the assignment, and give it back all in the course of five minutes. It was quick and easy.

This way Chad avoided detection. The nerd still had his homework to turn in. The solutions would be written in the client's own handwriting. And there would be no evidence of cheating.

But Chad couldn't put Dipper's work up for sale until he had confirmed that the kid consistently got good scores. He'd turn it in for himself for a few days; being able to guarantee a high average meant he could jack-up the price if need be.

Only Dipper's patience was nearly as short as his stature.

After only a week of "doing business" with Chad, he snapped.

Chad was seconds away from taking a picture of the day's homework assignment with his phone while Rodney was seconds away from dunking Dipper's head in the toilet when the freshman said in a nonchalant tone, "It's too bad I haven't been turning in my math homework lately."

Chuckling callously, Chad asked, "Why's that?"

Dipper's voice echoed strangely over the toilet, and yet he continued in a detached way, "It's gone missing every morning this past week. I'm not sure what to do."

Chad froze, "I've been putting it back."

An awkward movement that might've been a shrug came from the boy in the stall, "I told Mr. Baker that my homework disappeared. But luckily, he was kind enough to accept the digital copies that I make of the assignments for studying."

The implications of what Dipper was saying started to sink in.

"Mr. Baker said he was looking into it, since usually, I'm such a good student…" His voice trailed off as an announcement came over the school intercom.

"CHADWICK WALKER TO THE SCHOOL OFFICE. CHADWICK WALKER TO THE SCHOOL OFFICE."

"How long is the suspension term for stealing and cheating? A week." Dipper still sounded unmoved, but Chad could detect the slightest hint of malice. "Hmmm, that sounds like it would be bad for business."

Growling, Chad stuffed Dipper's homework back into the boy's book bag, not caring if it got crumpled and torn in the process. He stalked over to where Rodney had gone statuesque, though the flunky's hand still braced Dipper's head over the toilet. Chad was positively simmering as he hissed, "There is more than one way to pay for things. Rod, dunk him."

Dipper came up sputtering, and Chad got right in his face, "You think you can con me, freshman?"

Despite his curly, brown hair plastered to his face by foul water, the boy grinned.

It was a too big grin, showing too many teeth. It sent shivers down Chad's spine. And Dipper's voice was far too happy when he said, "Want to mess with my sister again? Try it. I dare you. I have so much more in store for you if you get curious. And I won't always be so nice."

_Retribution_. That's all Chad wanted. And right as he was pulling his arm back for a punch, the door of the boys' bathroom slammed open.

"Stop!" a girl – Tia King his brain supplied – commanded.

Glancing over his shoulder Chad snapped, "What are you going to do about it?"

The slight girl crossed her arms over her tiny chest. With the attitude to match she hotly retorted, "Track has only been in season three weeks and I already have four school records. I can run and get Katie and Mabel faster than you could hide your skinny, white ass. If that's what you want to deal with, then by all means, lay one finger on the snarky bookworm."

Rodney was shifting uncomfortably, and Chad realized he had lost his support. Already, his delay to show up to the office was confirming the administration's suspicions. To spread the icing on the cake, Dipper was smirking triumphantly. Chad was done for.

"C'mon." he mumbled to Rodney, who shoved Dipper into the stall wall and followed Chad out.

Over the thwack of the bathroom door settling closed, he heard Dipper mutter, "Thanks, but I was handling it myself."

"And that's why you're covered in toilet water." Tia snorted.

"I'll use a drying spell. Just don't tell Mabel."

Any other puzzling conversation was lost in the growing distance.

Chad discovered that an in-school suspension really _was_ bad for business as his clients lost their trust in his ability to deliver safe information. He also found out that having a record made the administration even more watchful of his actions and repeat offenses became much easier to detect. Additionally, he learned that being an outcast become much more of an inconvenience when he didn't have the school at his fingertips.

And added to the repertoire of things Chad Walker now knew, it was that a vengeful Dipper Pines was a thing to be feared.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope this satisfied you Wild card in the deck ;)<strong>

**I'm not super happy with how this one turned out. It was stubborn and didn't want to be written.**

**Also, I am so sorry about how long it has been since I've updated. School is really in full swing now and I'm super busy with my job, homework, and studying for entrance exams. My new goal will be to update once a week until I have exhausted all the ideas I have.**

**The past few chapters loosely reflect my headcanon that Mabel takes after Stan's pranking personality while Dipper ends up with his conman tendencies (as seen in the episode ****_Boss Mabel_**** when he run's the shack tours and in ****_The Golf _****War when he sets up the Lilliputtians to help Mabel win). I tried to come up with a high-school related con, but I'm not sure it was very clear…**

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

Grow Up

In middle school, Randall Clement had been the guy that everybody picked on. Head stuffed in the toilet, his locker vandalized, name-called by everyone that needed to up their own self-esteem. It had been awful. So. In eighth grade, Randal decided to change his image.

It wasn't easy. It took him a solid year. But eventually, the ass-kissing, the hard labor, and the weightlifting had paid off. He was now a member of the cool crowd, had a decent spot on the football team, and could boast of 180 pounds of solid muscle. Rand was the "chill dude." A sophomore in high school that could claim to be living his glory days to the fullest.

One might assume that Rand would look on those that were bullied with empathy. But that was far from reality. By improving his own situation, he had come to the conclusion that happiness could be gained if you worked for it; and those that chose not to were simply lazy.

Rand heard all about the nerds that got teased by the football team. It was practically a tradition. He didn't feel bad. Most of the time Rand was angry at them for making themselves such easy targets. If they would just grow up and embrace the world, there wouldn't be a good reason for people like the Piedmont Raven's sports stars to be breathing down their backs.

A heavy arm slung across his shoulder as he walked to the cafeteria for lunch hour, "Yo, Rand!"

"What's up, Adam?"

"Not much," the blonde kid answered casually, but Rand could tell he was itching to share something.

Nonchalantly slipping his frame out from underneath the muscular quarterback's grip, he pushed the door open, ignoring the way the other boy walked in like it was his birthright rather than thanking Rand. This was just the way some people were; if you couldn't get used to it, it was your loss.

"You know Shelby, right?" Adam rambled as he piled food onto his lunch tray.

"Yeah." Rand responded, wondering why the other guy even bothered to ask him since Shelby was a cheerleader in his grade and they had been going to all the same parties since freshman year. Of course he knew Shelby.

"Well, we were talking the other day…"

_Of course you were talking to her, _Rand kept his sarcastic commentary to himself, _though with the amount of time you spend staring at her butt it's a wonder you don't talk to it instead._

"The other day Shelby told this freshman that her sweater was pretty, but she was totally lying cause the girl's clothes were ugly as shit – that's what Shelby said. But then this other freshman called her out. Shelby said that he said that her sweater was even prettier and that she should go look at herself in a mirror and re-think her life because she was uglier than a sweater… uh, or something like that. He was totally throwing Shelby's insult back in her face. That kid's a doofus. He probably had no idea who he was talking to. But now he's gonna pay for it."

Adam's ramblings hadn't really given Rand a clear image of the order of events, but one thing was clear: someone was going to get a beat down. Rand usually tried to stay out of these things…

"So whaddya say, buddy. Wanna come with?" They sat down at a table, "I hear this dude eats alone in the courtyard. Easy A, ammirite?"

… But sometimes these things interfered with his social standing. Sacrifices had to be made.

And the way Rand saw it, he'd already made all the sacrifices.

Rand shrugged, "Whatever, dude."

"Yesss!" Adam crowed, "I knew you'd be on board. Trent owes me five bucks. He said you wouldn't be game. He's coming too by the way." The boy slapped Rand's back, "My good 'ol buddy, Rand."

_Is that why you ignored me all the way through middle school? _Rand thought, but shrugged it off; it wasn't Adam's fault that he wasn't fun to be around when they were twelve.

A few minutes passed while Adam and Rand wolfed down the questionable cafeteria food. Trent showed up slightly late, but wasted no time in shoving food in his face as well. In less than ten minutes, they were done. Probably a record or something.

"Ready?" Adam asked, standing and wiping greasy hands on his pants.

The other two boys nodded, joining him as they made for the exit.

The day was uncharacteristically warm for late October, but Rand enjoyed the rays of sun on his face, even when the notion of what he was about to take part in was sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. The other boys didn't seem to have the same misgivings: they were grinning and shoving one another, having the time of their life. That's what it was like to be born at the top, rather than slaving your way up the food chain.

Their target was situated in the sunlight, leaning against the retaining wall of a berm filled with withering mums. A blue and white cap was pulled down over his eyes to block the glare as he read a heavy book. Brown hair and lanky frame, Rand recognized the kid: Dipper Pines. He was in Rand's accelerated algebra and lit class. Rand knew from the past few months of school that the kid was smart. But, it would seem, that Pines' sharp tongue and razor wit had landed him in a tight spot.

Pines noticed their approach, Rand could tell, but he didn't move from his spot or even bother to look up. Diligently, he continued reading…

"Is that Spanish?" Rand mumbled quizzically. It had slipped out at the same moment Adam stopped the threesome's advance.

"It's Latin, actually." Pines answered without looking up. His voice was quiet and calm despite the fact that three heavily muscled guys were poised less than six feet away from where he stood.

Rand had no idea why anyone would bother to learn Latin except to up their nerdy cred, which Pines had done successfully with that singe sentence. The other two sneered derisively, despite the fact that they could barely read their native language.

"So, Loser, I bet you have a pretty good memory then?" Adam challenged.

"Probably," Pines nodded, turning a page of his book.

"Then you 'probably' remember insulting my girlfriend, twerp."

"I would remember doing something like that if Shelby Dean was your girlfriend, which she's not."

Rand winced. Pines, for all his knowledge, did not seem to understand when to shut up.

In response to Adam's infuriated silence, Pines followed up, "Mabel Pines – you might know of her – she likes to keep me up to date on what's going on in the school's social circles," he scoffed, "Why that matters, I'll never know. But I do know that you, Adam Green, haven't plucked up the courage to ask Shelby out, and are therefore not her boyfriend. Personally, I don't think you really like her; you just like her ass."

Another page turned.

Rand watched as Adam's face went from red to purple, a vein pulsing on his forehead at the sheer audacity of the seemingly helpless freshman.

Adam cracked his knuckles, "Do you have any last words, dweeb, cause I'm about to mess you up so bad you won't be able to talk for a week."

Pines, for the first time since the start of the encounter, looked up over the edge of his book. An amused expression filled his features. It seemed to say: _how cute_.

Rand wasn't sure what this kid had up his sleeve, but he didn't fancy finding out. He searched for a way out, only it was impossible to run now without losing the cred he'd spent years accruing.

"_Audientes halt, sol dim, veniunt ventorum : et praecepit ei dominus_." Rand's gaze darted about. The words sounded as if they were echoing from all sides, buzzing opressively about the gaggle of high schoolers.

Rand felt a chill, like the phantom of hundreds of spiders running along his skin. He brushed his arms to get rid of the sensation, but it didn't abate. Suddenly, his ears popped, a hollow whistling noise was all that remained – the deprived feedback of his brain. Fighting the fear rising in his stomach, Rand pressed his hands to his ears to find nothing there. His vision started to darken, and he thought he might be on the verge of passing out.

He squinted at his fellow teammates to see that they had been similarly afflicted. But when he turned to the kid – their victim – he found that the roles had been reversed.

Dipper Pines stood before them, his posture one of confidence, a smirk twisting his lips, his hand on the pages of the thick book. His eyes were glowing icy-white in the sudden darkness.

_What the hell?!_

The freshman waited less than half a minute, smiling as he watched the football players' terrified confusion: Adam squeezing his eyes shut and possibly whimpering, Trent touching his face compulsively with eyes vacant with horror, and Rand's own petrified posture. Pines finally relented and said something else, and Rand could only guess his words by the movement of his lips.

A rushing sound – like a waterfall – filled his head, and suddenly he could hear Pines saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch the last thing you said. My ears went all fuzzy. Can you repeat it?"

He was looking at Adam expectantly, big, brown eyes completing a flawlessly innocent façade.

But Adam looked to be as shaken up as Rand felt; maybe even more so, since he didn't know this kid before today. He seemed to be having a hard time swallowing and is eyes remained fixed on the freshman like Pines might try something given a fraction of a second's opportunity.

"Umm…"

"C'mon, man." Pines grinned at the threesome, but the expression seemed stretched too wide. His cheeks were taut and all his teeth were showing.

"I – I think Shelby had something she wanted to talk about before lunch break was over." Adam backed away, "I better go find her."

Pines nodded, "The period's over in ten minutes. I'd be quick about it if I were you."

Adam nodded nervously and backed away.

"And let Shelby know," Pines' expression darkened, "She better not mess with my sister again."

The quarterback turned and ran back to the cafeteria, Trent right on his heels. However, Rand felt ground to the spot. He needed to know what had just happened.

But when he looked back to the freshman, Pines had returned to reading his book as if nothing abnormal had occurred.

Rand couldn't think of a way to start this conversation, so he simply spat out: "What was that?"

Pines looked him up and down with a critical eye. "What was what?" he responded after a beat.

"Whatever it was you pulled!" he gestured wildly at their surroundings, "The thing with the sound and the light and – and your eyes were glowing!"

Another few seconds ticked by as the freshman eyed Rand critically. It was unnerving.

"Con tricks." Pines shut his book and slid it into his satchel, shouldering the bag as he talked, "I waited for a cloud to cover the sun for dramatic effect. The breeze happened to pick up. I have pop-rock fireworks taped to the bottom of my shoe, so when I shift my weight, they go off. I have a book light attached to the bottom lid of my hat so that the angle makes a glare on my face. So what?"

"That's not what happened." Rand objected.

To prove his point, Pines twisted his foot in the gravel and three popping sounds filled the empty courtyard in quick succession.

"That's not good enough. I know that's not what happened." He was starting to ramble.

The kid just shrugged, walking past him as he said, "I don't like people messing with me – or my sister for that matter – but it tends to happen a lot so I'm always prepared."

That hit a nerve.

"They wouldn't pick on you if you weren't such a recluse!" he accused as he turned to watch the freshman's retreating back.

Pines faced him, that weary, always-exhausted look Rand was used to seeing in class was plainly etched on his face. Gone was the confidence in his stance. He wasn't hiding behind pizazz and parlor tricks this time. This was a straight up dose of Dipper Pines.

The kid gripped the strap of his book bag tighter, "I like the way I am." Brown eyes darkened, "It would be dumb to disown the experiences that made me this way. Sure, some of it sucks. I'm an easy target; I get picked on all the time; but I know that changing isn't worth it."

"Yes it is!" Rand insisted, "I used to be like you too, and…"

"And apparently you didn't have people who already appreciated you for who you were." Dipper interrupted.

Randall remembered his father telling him to toughen up, stop crying, and stop being such a _girl_. His mother who was constantly working, and when she was home, was too tired to acknowledge his presence. His friend in 5th grade that had moved away, promising to message him, only to inform Randall six months later that he'd been _replaced_ with way cooler pals.

"I don't deny that becoming stronger is good, as long as it's for yourself _and _the people you love." Pines continued, "If you're only in the game to feed your own ego, you'll be empty and unhappy."

Randall clenched his fists looking down at his feet in frustration. This stupid kid couldn't just disassemble his lifelong lesson with a few sentences. "You wouldn't know." He ground out.

"I know lots of things." Pines answered, and Rand caught a painful smile on the kid's face, "But you wouldn't believe me. Magic is real; the apocalypse is coming; buy gold. Bye!"

Dipper Pines left the courtyard with one arm raised in farewell, leaving Rand wondering what the hell that was all about. And realizing that he never got an answer to his initial question: _what was that?_

* * *

><p><strong>I'M SO HAPPY! I had written this one a while back, but my old laptop kicked the bucket and I thought I lost it in the transit to my new laptop. I was just going through some old emails today and found that I had emailed it to myself. YAY! So I just decided to update it next ;D<strong>

**I'm starting to deviate from my previous layout of alternating stories that focus on Dipper and Mable. Honestly, Dipper is my fave lil… turd, so I have a lot more ideas for him. If anyone wants to throw some ideas my way for Mabel, I'd love to hear them.**

**Also, I've had a few people comment on the crap that "happens in high school" is really depressing, and I just want to remind the readers that the scenarios I write are purely for dramatic effect. High school isn't that bad… at least from what I can remember.**

**BTW: the new episode of Gravity Falls was stellar!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

Another Language

Isaac Guerrero wasn't really extraordinary in any way. Despite that, he tended to stand out. At school, it was his caramel skin tone and accent; at home, it was his height and lack of "manliness" (according to his five younger _hermanas_).

And while he was used to the kind of attention he garnered – lots of low-key stares and lots of dodged conversations – he wasn't expecting the attention he happened to garner on an average Wednesday afternoon.

It came out of nowhere.

A girl sidled up to his side in the lunch line, blinding smile permanently fixed on her face. She was batting her eyelashes _way_ more than what was necessary, and it was making him kinda dizzy. To top it off, her tray was so close to his that their arms touched, sending shivers up his spine.

"Hi." She said breathlessly, "I'm Mabel. But you can just call me 'Made For You'!"

She winked.

"Um…" he stammered, scooting farther down the line and bypassing the mac n' cheese he'd been looking forward to in his haste.

"Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile."

Now, the fact that this Mabel girl had just dropped a pick-up-line on him was _not _lost on Isaac. The problem was that his brain wasn't supplying him with anything except static and a few key observations: her hair was long and soft, her cheeks were rosy and pink, her eyes glittered in a way that indicated she was in on a joke one-hundred percent of the time. Now how was that more important than a response!?

"Um…" he echoed, reminding him of his _amigo_, Will. He missed the carton of chocolate milk he'd been aiming for; a carton of orange juice was what made it onto his tray instead.

Mabel seemed oblivious to his plight as she pressed on, "Do you know what this sweater is made of?" He shook his head and she leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Girlfriend material."

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Unfocused, he mumbled an excuse and tried to get away. "_Perdòname. Necesito comer almuerzo ahora._" He just didn't realize he'd said it in Spanish until Mabel pointed it out… sorta.

"Ooooooo! You speak Mermish!" she squealed as she followed behind him, "That's so cool! My friend Mermando taught me some. Here, let me give it a shot. Uh… _eres adorable y me haces sonreìr._ Ha! I nailed it, didn't I?"

"Sure." Isaac whispered hoarsely, feeling his face heat up and his ears burn bright red. A few more steps and he made it to his table, promptly collapsing into a seat and burying his head in his hands. He could feel the quizzical stare Will was giving him. And unfortunately, he could still feel the sunny disposition that was this Mabel girl, standing beside him.

Mabel pulled up a plastic chair and plopped into it, "I think my lunch is going to be plentiful in vitamin U today."

Isaac groaned, but Mabel didn't seem to get the message.

"Are you a banana? Because I find you a-peeling!"

There seemed to be no escape.

"Mabel." A voice called sharply, making Isaac turn around and peek through his fingers to see who had spoken.

Dipper Pines was standing behind them, his eyes fixed on Mabel as he said with some exasperation, "Tia told me to come and get you before you embarrass yourself for the duration of your high school career, or something like that. She stole my book so…"

He trailed off, and a moment of cold silence passed. Only then did Dipper seem to notice who all was present. Isaac noticed that Dipper visibly cringed while Will shrank back. And it made his blood boil to see his shy friend look so guilty when _he hadn't even done anything wrong!_

Mabel broke the rising tension, "Bro-bro! I still had a bunch of lines left to use!"

Isaac raised an eyebrow, the familial similarities between the two sharpening.

"I don't think it's appreciated," Dipper had lost his assertive tone. His words were barely audible over the din of the lunch room.

Isaac fixed Dipper with a heated glare, "It's amazing _you _would realize when something's not appreciated."

Dipper looked down at his sneakers and shuffled his feet, not saying anything.

Will piped up, "Isaac…"

"No, this needs to be said!" Isaac snapped, feeling slightly guilty when Will suddenly found the cafeteria table more interesting than the conversation.

"What needs to be said?" Mabel asked, innocent curiosity.

Returning his glare to Dipper, Isaac growled, "I know you were the one that wrecked Will's locker."

Dipper didn't deny it, just shrugged, still staring at his sneakers.

"There wasn't any evidence." Mabel butted in, "Our uncle…"

"You uncle lied!" Isaac cut her off.

This time, it was Mabel's turn to shrug, "He didn't lie. But he didn't tell the truth. That's what Grunkle Stan does; it's his language."

Isaac felt like shouting, but he kept his tone low and forceful, "That's almost as dumb as saying I speak Mermish or whatever. How can you admit to something and still get away with it!?"

"Sorry." Dipper whispered to the floor.

Mabel stood up forcefully, her chair making a racket as it skidded back with the sudden motion, "No, Dip, you don't need to apologize for anything." Furious brown eyes locked with Isaac's, "Look here, _amigo_. Will is a nice kid; what happened isn't his fault; and we're not blaming him. But incriminating someone for their reaction to a trigger, that's just…" she seemed to run out of the right words to express herself.

Her fists clenched at her sides, Mabel heaved a deep breath. "You don't have the whole story."

"Mabel…" Dipper said cautiously. He put a consoling hand on his sister's shoulder, but she still didn't break eye contact with Isaac.

"I'm usually a pretty good judge of character." All Mabel's anger was gone, leaving raw emotion in its wake, "I'd thought you'd have a little more empathy." To Will, she smiled apologetically, "Sorry about having to duke it out in front of you. Some things just _had to be said_."

"No prob." Will squeaked, blushing and waving it off.

Isaac watched speechless as Mabel herded her brother back to their table. He saw a small, African-American girl hand a thick book back to Dipper and he promptly flipped it open, presumably to resume where he had left off when it had been stolen. A pasty, white girl clapped Mabel on the back and began describing something with all the exaggerated gestures it seemed to require. And while Mabel chattered with the other girls, she constantly shot concerned looks at Dipper.

Kinda like what he did when he was looking out for Will or his younger sisters. Defensive, protective, wanting to keep someone who'd already been damaged from harm. It was achingly familiar.

A sigh from Will interrupted Isaac's thoughts and he glanced over to give the quiet boy a quizzical look.

"She's cute." He said, before filling his mouth with his sandwich as if to halt further comments.

"Yeah, she is." Isaac agreed, remembering how his heart had pounded at her complements without his permission. But it wasn't enough to compensate for the considerable tongue lashing she'd given him. He shot a sneaky smirk at his friend, "You going to ask her out?"

Will choked and spewed Isaac with half-chewed bits of sandwich. Isaac guessed that, at this point, he probably deserved it – karma and all that.

So if his language was Mermish and Mabel's language was pick-up-lines, Isaac wondered what Dipper's was.

* * *

><p><strong>A sorta continuation of Good Neighbor for SophiaCrutchfeild, her friends that fell out of their seats laughing, and Malica15. It makes happy to know that you're thoroughly enjoying the story.<strong>

**I really like Isaac, don't get me wrong. So please don't hate him! In my imagination he's not good with girls and a total cutie ^.^ He's just very defensive of his friends (read: those he takes under his wings *coughWillcough*) and in this case it led to some venting on Dipper, but Mabel set him straight.**

**In case you were wondering, Isaac's excuse to get away is: **_**Excuse me, I need to eat my lunch now**_**. Mabel's response: **_**You are cute and make me smile**_** (cause I feel like it's something Mermando would say to her ;)**

**Thank you all the reviewers who gave suggestions. I have some ideas and they will be in the works for the next few updates. Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

The Impossible

Circe Vott seriously needed some fresh air right now. The walls seemed to waver and throb, like the air above the pavement on a hot summer day. It was pointless to suffer through this lecture considering she had stopped paying attention over a half hour ago. She raised her hand, interrupting her Government teacher, mid rant.

"Yes, Miss Vott." He said rather snappishly.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Every eye in the room was on her, thought admittedly, not surprised by her interruption or lack of decorum. But who _would _expect any manners from the punk girl in the back with the septum piercing, undercut, and heavy purple eye makeup? No one, that's who.

The teacher, she couldn't remember his name even though she'd been going to this high school for over three years and had been in this class for over a month, rolled his eyes. His lack of effort to hide it prompted Circe to glare in return.

"Fill out a pass," he said with some weariness, "And come back to class as soon as you're done."

He had only bothered to say that because they both knew that that wouldn't be the case. The moment her feet crossed the threshold to the hallway, she was gone. Never coming back. At least, not today.

Hall pass in hand, Circe traversed the empty hallways, her excuse primed and ready to fire at any faculty member that would try and stop her. It turned out to be unnecessary, but given the number of times she snuck out, she'd need it someday. As she passed the last trash can nearest the front door, she reached behind it and grabbed her faux leather jacket.

Circe shrugged the jacket on and stepped out into the chill of the mild, January day. The sun was shining, dishonestly hiding the fact that it was a few degrees below freezing. She frowned at the glaring rays, lifting up a hand to block them. Her gaudy assortment of black, baroque rings glittered, and Circe frowned as she remembered the handful of change she had paid to get them.

Was all of life like that? On the surface, everything seems fine. But really, it's all cheap crap. Nothing is genuine. So what is all the fuss about?

Letting the thought slide from her mind, Circe trudged around the circumference of the school, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket as she went. In a fluid, well-practiced motion, she lit the end of a fresh roll and tucked the rest away.

But so distracted by her habit, Circe had missed the extra accessory to her usual hiding spot.

Perched atop the some empty crates she had dragged back here after they were thrown out by the cafeteria staff, was a boy. Oh, scandalous, right? Not really. The kid was obviously a freshman, as his fresh face was one even Circe didn't recognize, not that she paid undue attention.

"It's like they're getting more microscopic every year." She grumbled under her breath.

The boy's lips itched upward into a tiny smile, even though he didn't look up from the book that was balanced on his crossed legs – pretzel style. Circe took a drag of her cigarette, not bothering mask her scrutiny, though he didn't seem to mind.

Messy brown hair peeked out from under an oversized, blue and white ball cap. His thin, long-sleeved shirt and squishy, marshmallow vest didn't seem like they should be enough to keep him warm, but he gave no inclination that the weather was bothering him. Taking a step closer and tilting her head so that she could see his face, Circe noted how his brown eyes continued to flit back and forth along the lines of text. She blew a cloud of smoke into his face to see if she could distract him.

The action didn't seem to surprise the boy. He didn't cough dramatically. He didn't say anything about manners. He just sorta looked up and gave her that 'seriously?' look and waved the air clear.

"Whatchya doing here, kid?" Circe asked plainly, planting one hand on her hip and flicking ash off her cigarette with the other.

"Reading." He answered with a grin, "Obviously."

"During regular school hours? In the cold? No offense, kid, but you kinda struck me as the goody-two-shoes type."

He shrugged, "You'd be surprised then."

"Don't give me that 'looks can be deceiving' bullcrap."

"Sure they can." He said, giving her an ambiguously meaningful look before returning to his book.

Circe scoffed, slouching back against the wall of the school. The cinder blocks were even colder than the air, seeping through the fake material of her jacket in seconds. But the nicotine in her system was finally offering the relaxation she'd been needing since government class had started.

"Fresh air." She chuckled to herself. It was ironic.

The two, left to their own activities, remained in silence for a few minutes.

"Why do you smoke?" the boy broke the air with the simple question. Circe glance over to see that his full attention was locked on her. His gaze was wide and his head was tipped to the side. It was the picture of honest curiosity, genuine interest, and innocence. There wasn't a trace of judgment in his brown eyes.

Still.

Sighing jadedly, she shot back, "Why do you want to know?"

"Usually there's a reason for everything we do."

"Did you learn that in psychology class?" Circe kept her voice neutral, not looking at the boy.

"I'm not taking psych."

"I don't want people hyper-analyzing me."

From where she was leaning, Circe felt the boy let his back thump against the wall. "Me either." He mumbled.

"Besides your addiction to that book, I'd doubt they'd have much to analyze."

"You'd be wrong."

Circe stalked up to him, discovering that their heads were at the same height thanks to the crates.

Getting in his face, Circe snapped, "That's the second time you've corrected me about your quote-unquote 'bad-boy status' without any explanation. I'm not buying it." She took another drag of her cigarette and spewed the exhaust in his face again, "I dare you to prove me wrong."

"_Liberare la strada_." He intoned, and through the murk of second-hand smoke Circe could have sworn that his eyes glowed for a second.

In a millisecond, the haze had cleared. But it hadn't just dissipated; it had vanished, almost as if the gaseous molecules had ceased to exist. Even the steady stream of vapor from her cigarette butt had been snuffed out.

His face was unreadable: a mask so void of emotion that it sent a chill down her spine.

Circe flicked her spent cigarette to the ground, "Okay," she admitted, "Point."

She took as step back as the boy cracked a satisfied smirk, "Will you answer my question now?"

"Only if you answer mine as well. This isn't a charity ball."

The boy stuck out his hand, "Deal."

Circe shook on it. For all his gumption, his hand was small, fingers thin, grip weak.

Staring him dead in the eye, she said, "I smoke because my mom died when I was fourteen and I have a shit father who doesn't know how to keep it together for his daughter. Ever since then, all my dad does is work enough to pay for alcohol. But we still have a lot of loans from mom's medical bills. I've been employed at a fast-food place since I could get a work permit to try and pay them off. But the interest grows faster than I can repay them. Because I work, I don't do well in school. But because of the debts, I can't even hope to go to college anyway. I'm going to be saddled with this shit for the rest of my life. So I smoke because it's the one thing that makes me feel better."

She was breathing heavily as she finished. She had never explained herself to anyone that quickly, that concisely, or that frankly. But it felt good. Almost as good as another cig.

And the boy hadn't looked away. To top it off, there wasn't a hint of judgment in his eyes.

"My turn." Circe wanted to divert the attention from herself, and that was saying something for someone whose hair was dyed ink-black, "What was that earlier""

"Magic." Was his simple answer.

Narrowing her eyes, she demanded, "Who are you?"

"My name is Dipper Pines." The boy said. He didn't bother to shake her hand again. "You asked two questions, so I have another. Why did your parents name you Circe?"

"Mom was obsessed with myths." She said tersely, not satisfied with the equality of information exchange in their bargain. "Explain what you mean by 'magic.'"

Sensing her irritation, Dipper grinned, "Is that your next question?"

"Is that yours?" she rebutted.

"Point. Magic is kinda like the stuff in fairy tales, but not quite. It's the manipulation of reality through words of power. You might find that most 'spells' are ancient expressions, used so often through the ages that they were infused with a power of their own through peoples' belief in their efficaciousness. For example, one you learn in high school: _veni, vidi, vici_." As he spoke, he held out his hand. Dipper's fingers sparked as electricity arched between them and his eyes glowed bright white. The power began to build, but as the whine came to a climax, he clenched his fist so that the magic cut off, "That is a destruction spell or a spell of dominance depending on how you interpret it. Spells are not limited to Latin – that is just the language I prefer to study – they can be in any language as long as they meet the aforementioned constraints.

Circe was silent, thoughtful. Their question swap had come to an end. Now Dipper was watching her intently.

She believed him. Every word. All those fictional stories her mom had read to her as a kid _could_ be true. They weren't cheap crap. They were genuine.

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked slowly, hesitant to start up the question game again.

Dipper smiled, seemingly gratified by that question, "Not everyone can utilize magic. It's actually a pretty unique gift."

"So what? Are you my Hagrid?" Circe screwed up her face and tried to imitate a heavy, cockney accent, "Yer a wizard, 'Arry."

"Something like that." Dipper acknowledged with a laugh.

Circe gaped at him, "You're not serious!"

"But I am. I noticed your aptitude a few months ago. Since then, I've deducted which branch you fall into, which is Mage, but the way. I myself am a Wizard. Then I spent some time digging through my contacts." He twirled his hand and a slip of paper appeared out of thin air, "There is a Mage – a matriarch of the Suquamish Tribe – right outside of Seattle that is looking for a protégé. If you can make your way up there, everything else will be taken care of."

Hands shaking as she took the fragile, white sheet, Circe could not believe how her life had been upended by skipping one class. In more than one way, the impossible had happened.

"But, my debts." She whispered, reality crashing back down around her.

Dipper shook his head, frowning, "They're not _your_ debts." He said gently. For the first time, he looked unsure, but he plowed ahead anyway, "Look, you have four months. Try to get your dad's head above the alcohol. Convince him to declare bankruptcy. He'll lose everything, but maybe that's what he needs to start again. You, on the other hand, are eighteen – a legal adult. If this is what you want, well, do what makes you feel better."

Those were _her _words.

Circe gripped the paper tighter. "Okay."

"Okay."

"My name's Circe, by the way. Circe Vott."

"I know."

"Just thought I'd formally introduce myself."

* * *

><p><strong>I think this is my favorite one so far! I was sort of feeling angsty when I wrote it, so it served as a kind of personal pick-me-up. For the Anon that suggested the girl that finds out about magic, I hope this satisfies you as much as it did me. It also explains magic the way I thought it was portrayed in the show, I mean, <strong>_**Habeas Corpus**_**? Very original.**

**Circe does leave her father after she graduates. Maybe she should have stuck around to care for the last member of her family, but he had four years to get his act together, so I feel like she gave him plenty of chances. She becomes a very talented mage utilizing a Native American Language. She specializes in battle magic and restraining dangerous demons that enter the human plane. Also, the cigarette that Dipper inadvertently puts out is the last one she ever has. (I didn't know how to fit this into the story but I wanted to give Circe closure)**

**Magician class distinction:**

**Wizard: their magic comes from within themselves, therefore their power is limited by their own strength. Wizards will eventually be exhausted by strong spells or multiple weak spells; however they can grow stronger over time with practice.**

**Mage: their magic comes from artifacts and the like, therefore their power is limited by the object they are drawing power from. A Mage can be stronger with a stronger artifact or by carrying multiple weak artifacts; additionally, they are not exhausted by performing spells since they are not the source of the magic.**

**There are probably other classes, but I don't have their aptitudes mapped out :P**

**Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

Text Me Don't Call

Shelby Dean could get anything she wanted. After all, her family was connected with a _diverse_ group of people, including millionaires _and_ billionaires. So when she said she wanted Jason Wright, she would get Jason Wright. No questions asked. Or at least, that's what she thought.

Only half invested in the conversation – or in an attempt to look cool and aloof – Shelby examined her nails as she declared, "You're coming with me to Homecoming."

Jason shot her a doubtful look, "Why would I do that?"

"You're the perfect arm candy." Shelby smirked, looking him in the eye, "Don't worry about anything but your suit. I'll pay for the tickets, and the limo, and the meal. Pretty good deal, huh?"

"At least you're honest," Jason mumbled. A little louder he said, "But, no deal."

A beat.

"What!?" Shelby screeched, outraged. She abandoned all pretenses of nonchalance and barged into his personal space, "Why not!?"

He grinned, but it was the kind of grin that made her shrink back – a not-nice grin.

"I have my eyes on someone else. "

Shelby scoffed, "Who would be better than me? You're going to find some other millionaire to take you to the dance?"

"Not quite," he answered coyly.

"Just tell me already." Shelby snapped.

"Mabel Pines."

There was a minute of silence. She couldn't believe her ears. Had he really said that?

"What?" was her only response. Again.

"Mabel Pines. I'm asking Mabel Pines to the dance."

"That hyperactive freak!?" she felt her voice rising in volume again.

"Yep."

"Why would you do that!?"

"Don't get me wrong," Jason waved his hands, as if to placate her, "It would be great to go with you. I'm sure it would be lots of fun." His gaze roamed down then up again, "But I have my sights set on Mabel."

"That doesn't answer _why_?" Shelby growled, her long, manicured nails biting into the palm of her hand as she tightened her fists.

Jason smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I guess that's my little secret."

He winked and walked off, leaving her there seething. Mabel needed to _pay_. Granted, she wouldn't know what she was paying _for_. But she would pay.

So she started with simple rumors. Mabel is ugly. Mabel wears red skirts when she's on her period because she's too much of a wimp for tampons.

And they got more and more elaborate. Mabel never takes her ADHD meds. Mabel and her brother make out on a regular basis.

It was all going according to plan. By the time Shelby was done, Mabel would be too socially ruined for anyone to take her to the homecoming dance, much less Jason Wright. But that plan was derailed by one, innocent little phone call.

She swiped the answer command on her touch phone, waved her friends away, and chittered into the microphone, "Hey, Pacifica. It's been awhile. How are you?"

"I'm just fine. You, on the other hand, not so much." Pacifica's snooty voice was colder than usual.

Confused, Shelby asked, "What do you mean?"

"I've only got a few minutes before my hair appointment, so I'll make this quick and to the point. _Lay off Mabel Pines_."

Shelby shivered. Pacifica's voice was dead – completely without emotion – at that last statement. The chilling reality of what a powerful Nothwest was capable of. Best course of action: feign ignorance.

"What are you talking about?"

Pacifica sneered, "Don't play dumb; although it suits you. I know full well that you've been spreading rumors about Mabel at your school."

"How." Shelby whispered.

"A little bird told me." Pacifica said with sing-song innocent.

"Who."

"Dipper Pines."

All this fist clenching recently was really not good for Shelby's nails.

Pacifica followed up without waiting for a response, "And don't bother going after him either. I'm not forbidding you from doing it, but I wouldn't recommend it."

That seemed like an odd thing for her to say, "What do you mean?"

"That sweaty nerd is one of the thorniest, most vindictive persons I have ever met. You mess with him, and you will _not_ get by unscathed."

Shelby's silence prompted Pacifica to expound a bit.

"You know the Northwest Party held earlier this year?"

Who didn't know about the famous gala the Northwests held every summer? Shelby didn't say it out loud, but Pacifica didn't wait for acknowledgement to continue.

"Dipper asked that my parents honor an… agreement they had previously made to invite the townsfolk of Gravity Falls to the party. Mom and Dad refused, so Dipper had a friend make a device that he snuck in and wired to the front gates. When the first toast was made, the clinking of the chandelier glasses activated the device and opened the gates. You know the rest."

Shelby remembered the mayhem that ensued, as the residents of Gravity Falls camping outside the wall surged through the breech. With all the commotion, she didn't remember much after that. Her parents had decided to leave within a few minutes.

However, with Pacifica bringing it up she was beginning to have a few niggling recollections. A strangely satisfied smirk on Pacifica's face. A girl with long, brown hair dumping sugar packets in the cider fountains. And a boy bumping fists with a green-spectacled old man.

"Anyway," Pacifica said, bringing Shelby back to the present, "Don't cross either of the Pines twins."

A beat.

"Pacifica," Shelby hoped her voice didn't sound quite so small on the other end of the line, "Maybe next time you need to tell me something vaguely threatening, text me. Don't call. You're scary when you want to be."

"Intimidation is the point." The smug satisfaction in Pacifica's voice was palpable, even hundreds of miles away, "Mabel is my friend. Don't pull and shit like that _ever again_. Got it?"

Shelby gulped, "Yes, ma'am."

Pacifica hung up without another word.

And belatedly, Shelby realized, she never asked Pacifica how she knew Mabel and Dipper. Which was even more mysterious than the not-so-veiled threats.

* * *

><p><strong>Lemme just say, this was a brilliant idea. Thank you Anon and grungekitty who suggested it in addition to Cartwheellou and Malica15 who asked for Shelby. All this dialogue really flowed off my fingertips and I had a blast writing Pacifica's part. Oh and you <strong>**_know _****she was the one who helped Dipper sabotage the party ;D**

**Inspiration for Mabel spiking the punch comes from this comic here (moringmark tumblr com/post/110435721038), all credit where credit is due.**

**Unfortunately, this one ran a little on the short side. But it leads into the next story. I'm not guaranteeing when I'm going to update. Like I've said before, my life has been super busy and I got sick last week, which didn't help. I've decided that this story will be 15 chapters long when it's complete and I already have ideas for all those chapters. Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing!**


	12. Chapter 12

***WARNING: this one strays into the upper Teen rating***

Godmother of Crime

Jason Wright was probably the only one who knew the juiciest secret in the school.

Mabel Pines was hott.

Yes, it deserved two t's.

She did a decent job of hiding it. Wearing fugly, oversized sweaters; accessorizing with anything and everything; acting like a complete wackjob one hundred percent of the time. But, Jason knew how to spot girls. And Mabel had all the… assets.

The perfect time to make his move was drawing near: homecoming. It would seem casual, the 'let's just go as friends' vibe. But by the end of the night, emotions would be running high and it'd be the perfect moment to act on pent-up, testosterone induced frustration.

Jason used every romantic tactic in the book; the book being _Twilght_. Girls liked that garbage for some reason. Thinking life was some kind of steamy, sultry fantasy.

It wasn't hard. He wasn't surprised when she said yes. Everything was going according to plan.

Homecoming itself was a hot mess. Bass thumping enough to rattle the gym floor. Music blaring with the intent to give every attendee tinnitus for the following forty-eight hours. Overexcited freshman dancing overzealously. Spilled snacks crunched to dust underfoot and slopped punch made shoes stick to the floor.

And Mabel was just shouting, laughing, and rocking along like she was in her natural habitat.

Jason tried to maneuver closer to her, but the bodies were packed too close. If anyone with knowledge of policy and the guts to enforce it saw this veritable mosh pit, they'd all be fined for violation of fire code. To top it off, whenever he did manage to get close, Mabel would get nabbed by conga line or lifted up to crowd surf.

"And now a slow song for all you precious couples out there!" The DJ announced, and Jason sighed in relief.

"I love this song!" Mabel squeaked, eliciting a duet of shushes from a nearby student, Shelby Dean. She glared whisked past with her partner, Kevin Ringenberg. With the dance floor deprived of its single population, it was much easier to catch his date and pull her into a close shuffle.

He had been severely disappointed by Mabel's homemade dress. It just didn't work for her. Composed of overly fluffy material and some weird waistline, the thing did nothing to show off the potential he knew she had. But now, arms wrapped around her, he was starting to remember what this night was all about.

Mabel was laughing and talking about something inane as they awkwardly circled around, but Jason wasn't really listening. He tried not to let his mind get too ahead of him and instead focus on the next step: how to get her somewhere more _private_.

Suddenly, Mabel's chatter cut off. She froze, frowning ever so slightly.

"What's up?" he asked.

Smiling with perfectly straight teeth recently liberated of their braces (an added bonus), she whispered mysteriously, "Nothing." She winked, "I'm just going to slip out for a moment. See you in a bit!"

Faster than he thought possible, she disappeared, the only evidence of her departure was the swinging motion of the gymnasium doors. But Jason recognized the perfect opportunity. He followed after his date.

The hullabaloo of homecoming was muted in the hallway. Lockers and classrooms were shrouded in an eerie atmosphere, forsaken of the activity he was accustomed to seeing during the day. But Jason could feel the grin growing on his face. She was making this too easy.

"I'm good. Everything is fine." He glimpsed Mabel, leaning against a wall by the vending machine, seemingly talking to herself. "There are just a few more things I want to do tonight…"

Jason moved into her line of sight and interrupted her, "Me too."

Mabel started, but recovered quickly, "Jason." She looked confused, "What are you doing here?"

Oh, so she was playing hard to get? He moved in closer, his tone dropping low as he teased, "As if you don't know already. I'm just reading the signs."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He took a step closer and she took a step back, bumping into the wall. He laid a hand against the cinder blocks by her head which wedged her between his arm and the vending machine. Her breath was coming faster and he was close enough to feel it on his cheeks.

"'See you in a bit'? I got the message loud and clear."

Mabel huffed, regaining some composure, "You don't have a very good grasp of English if you're thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I think we're thinking the same thing." Jason said, closing the distance and pressing his lips to hers. His other hand slid up, abandoning the restraint he'd been exercising all night. And finally, he shifted forward to finish all in one movement.

Only to slam face-first into the wall.

Mabel was behind him, pinning his arm behind his back in a way that might dislocate his shoulder with any additional force. She was pressing him against the cold surface, and Jason found that he was unable to maneuver out of her hold.

"Unwanted intimate contact." She scoffed, "Let me tell you. That is not what _I_ was thinking."

"Unwanted?" he whined, his arm twinging painfully, "You were totally asking for it."

"Nope."

He felt his frustration peak, morphing into a more manageable emotion: anger.

"You're such a shitty prude." Jason spat, "You should be grateful that I bothered with you when you're always hiding behind your terrible taste in clothes."

The grip on his arm tightened, causing unwanted tears to spring into his eyes. But Mabel didn't say anything. Maybe he had gotten through to her? He'd still give her another chance if she asked nicely. He'd probably also require an apology for whatever she was doing to his arm though.

Without warning, the pressure vanished. It was so unexpected, it took him a few seconds to get his bearings. And when he turned to look for Mabel, he discovered the hallway devoid of any sign of life, female or otherwise.

He didn't see her for the rest of the night.

The next time he laid eyes on his Homecoming date, it was in the hallway the following Monday at school. She didn't acknowledge his presence. When he approached her in class, she was polite despite the fact her responses were limited to the bare minimum of social acceptability. Jason didn't bring up what had happened and neither did she.

So maybe everything was fine.

Jason didn't know a time he'd ever been more wrong in his life.

Two weeks after homecoming, Jason was certain there was no hard feelings. It was Halloween. A good deal of students had decided to wear costumes to school, which served to be an interesting distraction. A few members of the football team had dressed up as the ninja turtles, which must have required extensive body paint. Vines of them performing fight sequences during passing period had already gone through hundreds of loops on social media. There was also a freshman dressed as some sort of businessman, sporting a bow tie, hair slicked back, the whole shebang. Apparently, he was roleplaying a character as well, having coerced over a hundred dollars out of unsuspecting members of the student body before the day was even halfway done. And Mabel…

She was wearing the most baby blue, chunky suit jacket in existence. Three sizes too big, complete with shoulder pads and cuff links. Giant, circular, fake glasses barely remained perched on her nose and some stupid looking hat balanced precariously on her head. It was ridiculous.

In attempt to stay awake in his first class after lunch, he wondered why he ever thought she had potential to be with him?

"JASON WRIGHT TO THE SCHOOL OFFICE. JASON WRIGHT TO THE SCHOOL OFFICE."

Ms. Schultz looked at him expectantly, "Better get going, Jason."

It probably wasn't anything important, but he welcomed the chance to miss his Lit teacher's fangirling over Hamlet, so he took his time getting to the office. Upon arrival, the secretary – Mrs. Bender – shot him a critical look over the rim of her glasses.

"Principal Rocklin wants to see you."

He squashed the niggling sensation of foreboding that suddenly rose up. There was nothing to worry about. Jason Wright was just that: Mr. Right.

But when he opened the principal's office door, that sensation of foreboding turned into a fully blown dread.

Principal Rocklin wasn't in the room.

Mabel Pines occupied the high backed, faux leather chair, elbows supported on the armrests and fingers steepled below her chin. With her suit jacket, glasses, and hat, she gave off an air of power and control.

"Come in." she commanded in such a voice that his legs moved of their own volition, two steps forward before he caught himself.

It was two steps too many. The door shut behind him, a sound of damning finality. Jason glanced over his shoulder to see a boy – a freshman probably – remove his hand from the knob and stroll leisurely over to stand beside Mabel. The two of them made an incongruous sight behind the principal's desk.

"What's going on," he mustered as much confidence as possible, "Where's Principal Rocklin."

Mabel's tone was altogether too nonchalant as she answered, "The Principal is currently indisposed, enjoying an excellent lunch at a fancy restaurant, courtesy of the Parent Advisory Board. But that is not the topic of our meeting today." She gestured to the chair, "Please, sit."

Jason didn't want to sit, but some base compulsion prompted him to slowly ease into the seat across the desk.

"I'd like to introduce you to my associate, Dipper Pines." Mabel continued, "He will be helping us conduct the details of today's mediations."

Dipper, Jason noticed, didn't react to Mabel's address, continuing to stand stoically beside her. It took Jason far too long to realize that the freshman who had been conning his classmates all morning was also Mabel's brother. And Jason had no idea who he was trying to impersonate. His outfit consisted of a mark, drawn across his forehead to look something like the Big Dipper, an eye patch, and an immaculate, black suit.

"For our first order of business, I would like to establish some background." Mabel lifted a sheet of paper and adjusted her glasses as she read, "Approximately eleven days ago, you sexually harassed a female student in the halls of Piedmont High School…"

"What!?" Jason exploded, "Nothing like that ever happened!"

"Dipper, would you please explain the definition of the subject."

"Of course." Dipper spoke for the first time, his tone neutral and dispassionate, "Sexual harassment is the harassment (typically of a woman) in a social situation, involving the making of unwanted sexual advances or obscene remarks."

"Thank you Dipper." Mabel smoothly continued, "Now, as I was saying. This event occurred eleven days ago. In that time, the victim has had the chance to confer with her advisors about the litigations. Dipper, would you like to inform Mr. Wright the range of consequences for his actions."

Dipper stepped in front of Jason, staring intently as he spoke and succeeding in making Jason feel as if he was being examined like a specimen under a microscope, "The procedure for addressing sexual harassment is thus. The occurrence of said harassment is announced to the school – staff and students – to make all aware that such behavior is not tolerated. An investigation is initiated to determine the exact nature of the incident. After the truth has been elucidated, corrective action is taken by the administration. Depending on the seriousness of the misconduct, punishment may range from suspension to expulsion. Failure to do so violates Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 and can be pursued in the court system."

Jason felt his trepidation growing, but somehow managed to squeeze out, "You don't have any proof. It's my word against hers."

The boy smirked. Shark like. Predatory.

"On the contrary," Dipper pulled something out of his pocket: a cellphone.

Mabel folded her hands and placed them on the desk as she explained, "I was on the phone with my brother at the time. He has the conversation between you and I recorded, Mr. Wright. Additionally, I have spoken with a few of the young ladies you've previously taken on dates. Some confided in me to have experienced something similar at your hands." A shit-eating grin stretched across her face, "Your best chance is to listen to my proposal."

"Screw you!" Jason grit out.

The temperature in the room dropped and a bead of cold sweat dribbled down his back as the siblings glared.

"Dipper," Mabel broke the silence that had stretched a good fifteen seconds, "Please read Mr. Wright the proposal."

"Gladly." Dipper answered stiffly, returning to the desk to take the sheet of paper Mabel proffered him. He faced Jason as he read with clear diction, "'By signing this contract, I hereby agree that I will in no way verbally or physically contact the witnesses against me, whether directly or indirectly. I concede to notify Mabel Pines of any future individual I take interest in. Prior to making contact with said individual, I authorize Mabel Pines to speak with the individual and disclose any information that she sees fit concerning my previous, indecent actions. Failure to meet these demands will be met by a prompt report of the events of Homecoming 2014: full disclosure of the incident, revelation of the recording, and exhumation of previous misconduct. Finally, I swear not to reveal or discuss the contents of this contract in any way, shape, or form to anyone besides Mabel and Dipper Pines."

Hollowly, Jason objected, "You can't do this."

"It's very simple, Mr. Wright." Mabel explained, "Agree to my terms and you will be able to continue living in relative peace. Deny my offer, and, well… your life will experience some rather dramatic upheavals."

He could only stare. His once homecoming date, innocuously sitting at the principal's desk, wearing ridiculous clothes, and threatening to ruin his life. It was too much.

With shaking, numb fingers Jason took the pen Dipper provided. Mabel pushed the contract across the desk. And in an action that felt like he was selling his soul to a demon, he signed on the line.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you, TiPoLover 22, for your suggestion. Mabel and Dipper being boss was too good to pass up. The Godmother of Crime is a play on The Godfather and Fairy Godmother, as in, Mabel serves as a protective entity for girls in the dating world (so kinda like you mentioned, grungekitty). I researched the stuff concerning sexual harassment (so the info IS accurate), and it was kind of sad how little there was in terms of prevention… :\<strong>

**Granted, Boss Mabel is canon, but starfleetrambo's art inspired the mood of this story ( starfleetrambo tumblr com/post/109212884878#109212884878). **

**I also wanted to mention: I'm thinking of changing the title of this story to ****_Outsiders_**** just so it's more concise and cool sounding. Would that be confusing to the readership?**

**Your thoughts are always welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading!**


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